Belle Machiavel
by SongBird312
Summary: Historia Reiss' life is turned upside down when she is crowned queen of her kingdom at 16, and the tables turn again when she catches the eye of a waitress with a dangerous secret. Amidst witty knights, clever sorcerers, budding romances, and an ancient conspiracy, Historia must choose between her head and her heart, and hope she makes a choice she won't regret. Updates Saturdays!
1. All Hail

**Summary: Historia Reiss' life is turned upside down when she is crowned queen of her kingdom at 16, and the tables turn again when she catches the eye of a waitress with a dangerous secret. Amidst witty knights, clever sorcerers, and a war between humans and magic-kind, Historia must choose between her head and her heart, and hope she makes a choice she won't regret.**

 **This is a total fantasy AU because I think fantasy is so fun to write, as well as to read. I hope you feel the same. Either way, feel free to follow, favorite, review, or critique; all are appreciated and encouraged. This is also a multiple pairing story, so stay tuned on that front!**

 **As for the title, I got the idea for this while reading The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli and the word machivel (meaning someone who embodies the ideas of Machiavelli) was used a lot and then this happened and I couldn't think of anything better so… here!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the characters (except the few OC's I added here and there). All characters belong to their rightful owners.**

 **Note: The italicized part at the beginning is a flashback. I will probably start most chapters in this manner, so the long italicized parts will always be flashbacks.**

 **Second Note: The date and time period are completely made up. Yes, there really was a 1513, but this is it's own 1513, not the real one.**

 **Enjoy!**

~~~~0000~~~~

" _ **Nonetheless, so that our free will not be eliminated, I judge that it might be true that fortune is arbiter of half of our actions, but also that she leaves the other half, or close to it, for us to govern" – Niccolo Machiavelli.**_

 **~~~~0000~~~~**

 _Thursday, August 6, 1513_

 _Erwin Smith's eyes were the only part of him to move when the heavy, wooden door to the king's chamber opened with a mournful creak. The rest of his companions couldn't resist moving, their bodies having been trapped in an almost mechanical routine of nervous motion since they'd been called by the Prime Minister's page at a quarter past the hour of eleven. They'd been waiting in the hallway for nearly an hour when the door opened and the doctor emerged, followed by the Prime Minister. The grim look on the men's faces spoke volumes._

 _"What are we going to do?" one minister sighed pitifully, hiding his face in his hands. Erwin noted the lack of sincere emotion in his tone; it seemed to him that the minister found it more of an inconvenience than a tragedy that the king had chosen to die tonight. "His wife's been dead for five years, and none of their children survived past nine. Who's going to succeed him?"_

 _"Sir Edros, I do believe that will be you," another minister said, placing his hand on the shoulder of the Prime Minister as if they were life long friends. "There is no one else to rightly take his place..."_

 _"No, there is still one blood relative who may have the throne before me," Sir Edros answered. Erwin's eyes flashed to the Prime Minister, slightly put off by the speed of his response. "The king's niece, Historia Reiss. She's the daughter of his late brother, and has been living with Lord and Lady Carolina since the death of her parents fifteen years ago. She is now the true heir by blood."_

 _The second minister's eyes widened in surprise as he withdrew his hand from the Prime Minister's shoulder, taking a full step away as if the other man were a complete stranger._

 _"How old is she?" the first minister asked. He readjusted the spectacles sitting on his nose, looking very similar to a banker keeping his books._

 _"She will be seventeen next January," Sir Edros replied with a nod. "Which will make her sixteen at the coronation. Do you think that's too young?"_

 _"I fear that it might be a little…"_

 _"Too young? I once knew a king who was coronated at thirteen," a third minister added in boisterously, completely interrupting the second minister's argument. "The boy ruled for seventy years. Sixteen is definitely old enough to run a kingdom. And even if the responsibility is too much for her at first, we can most certainly step in and help. Teach her from the bottom up, you know? What else are we here for, after all?" Erwin noted how the second minister seemed to shrink. His hesitance was disquieting._

 _"Shall I seek out the Reiss girl tomorrow, then?" the first minister asked._

 _"If you would see to that, Lord Cresca, that would be splendid," Sir Edros said in response. Erwin frowned at the complete disregard for the deceased king. He found the men's indifference curiously frustrating. They were supposed to be the monarch's ministers, his inner circle; shouldn't they be at least slightly torn up over the man's death? They'd served under him for the better part of forty-four years, hadn't they?_

 _The master of the knights' guild thus took it upon himself to try to drag the men back to reality._

 _"What if she says no?" Erwin spoke up suddenly. The other men flinched at his statement, whirling on him with eyes wide as if they'd seen a ghost. Erwin had been so calm and quiet that they'd clearly forgotten he was present. As usual. The blonde man stared hard at the Prime Minister, awaiting his answer. "You said that she_ may have _the throne, which implies that you are giving the girl a choice to rule or not. If that is your intention, what will you do if the girl refuses your offer?"_

 _Sir Edros looked down at the stones on the floor, rubbing at his chin. "Well, I suppose you're right: it is the girl's choice in the end. I suppose I will have to take the throne in the event that she refuses. However, I doubt that she'll say no. What girl would give up the chance to become a princess?" The smile that accompanied his last statement earned the man a seemingly satisfied smirk from Erwin._

 _"Remember that you're offering her a kingdom, not just a crown," the blonde man warned lightly. A round of light chuckles followed. Erwin pushed himself up from his seat, satisfied to know that the men thought he was on board with them. Their return to the topic of Historia's coronation furthered his confidence that every single one of them was oblivious to his true thoughts. As usual._

~~~~0000~~~~

Friday, August 21, 1513

At sixteen years old, Historia Reiss was to become the youngest monarch in the history of Gaiola. By tragic accident, the previous king had died without producing a direct heir, so the crown had thus been handed down to her, the daughter of his deceased younger brother. Historia had never really known her Uncle Fritz, since a noble family outside of the castle had raised her after her parent's death and it was hard to get an audience with a king, even if you're a blood relation. And to be fair, Historia had only found out that she was a princess when she was twelve, having no idea she was even remotely connected to the royal family before that. But still, here she was, four years later, being offered the crown of the kingdom. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and she was more than happy to serve her kingdom, which Lord Cresca said she would when he had appeared on Lord Carolina's doorstep and offered her the crown. But quite frankly, sitting in the royal chapel on her uncle's throne in front of the congregated mass of her future citizens, Historia did not feel prepared for it. Not in the slightest.

The Prime Minister had been making a speech on the history of Gaiola for what felt like both an eternity and a few seconds at the same time. Historia blamed the trick of time on the butterflies throwing a party in her stomach. Sir Edros' strong voice was echoing around the room with a booming presence, both cheerful and powerful at the same time as he recounted the tales of the great monarchs of old. Each word had been chosen with great care to keep each spectator at the edge of his or her seat with enthralling images of swordfights and majestic galas. The audience was spellbound by Edros' rhetorical magic. Yet his words were completely lost on Historia's ears, the blood rushing too loud for her to hear much besides her own heartbeat.

Historia's curious eyes scanned the faces in the audience as the Prime Minister spoke. The entire kingdom had been invited to the coronation, and it appeared to her that everyone had accepted. People from all over the village peppered the seats of the grand chapel. There was the baker from Fifth Street with his wife; there the master swordsman from the edge of the south quarter; here the apothecary from the west quarter of the commerce district; and there the grumpy man who rumor said had slain a dragon but now spent his time running a restaurant of repute by the waterway. Each face offered her a smile of pleasure, (save the grumpy restaurant man, but rumor also said he never smiled). Yet every grin twisted Historia's stomach into a tighter knot.

In less than an hour, she would be their queen. She would regulate their commerce and trade agreements. She would meet with foreign diplomats on their behalf. She would have to lead them to war if threatened. She'd be responsible for their lives. Just thinking about it made her head spin.

Historia resisted the urge to fidget or bite her lip as she looked out on her future citizens as Sir Edros' speech carried on. She felt the eyes of the audience scrutinizing every piece of her like she was a painting on display in a gallery. Were the curls in her golden hair falling correctly over her shoulders? Did her smile look real? Was she sitting up straight enough? The stares made her feel both ridiculously overdressed and disgustingly underdressed in the pink gown the ladies in waiting had chosen for her. The sleeves that cinched at the elbows and opened like lilies over her forearms looked too simple when compared to the graceful pattern on the dresses of the noble ladies sitting in the front rows. At the same time, the elegantly simple bodice with its pattern of cream lace that extended under the rose colored skirt made the hats on some of the other women look gaudy as all get out. Historia could barely navigate the world of royal fashion; how was she supposed to run a kingdom if she didn't even know if her outfit looked right?

The girl let her mind continue to wander as Sir Edros continued to speak, the drone of his voice providing comfortable background noise to her thoughts. The chapel was a gorgeously grand structure. Only the cathedral in the north quarter was larger, but what the palace's chapel lacked in size, it made up for in style. White marble columns connected the pristine tiled floor with the vaulted ceiling, leaving a generous amount of wall space for a satisfying number of windows. The architectural structure allowed the chapel to play a beautiful trick on its occupants as the bright sunlight bled through the massive stained glass windows, casting lovely shadows of color across the congregation. Golden yellow illuminated the merchants from the commerce district. A deep red painted the knight's guild. Soft, sylvan green blanketed a pocket of scholars from the university.

Historia blinked as her eyes fell on a hooded figure illuminated by a pool of violet light. It was almost like a dark spotlight shining perfectly on the caped shadow, separating them like a specter only Historia could see. The girl scanned the people as covertly as possible, and found that no one else drew her attention like the shadow in the hood. It also occurred to her that the citizens sitting in the vicinity of the hooded figure didn't seem to notice their presence. Perhaps the form really was an apparition, a figment of Historia's imagination. Either way, the person sat perfectly still, arms crossed over their chest as if they came to royal coronations everyday. The face was hidden beneath the folds of the hood, but Historia didn't need to see the eyes to know they were directed at her. And she had a feeling she was staring straight back into them.

A strange sort of shiver ran up the blonde girl's spine as she realized that she was making eye contact with a stranger who was concealed by a cape. She'd been taught as a child that hoods meant trouble. If you couldn't show the world your face, it meant you had something to hide and lacked the courage to own up to it. Yet she kept on staring at the mystery person, silently admonishing herself for playing right into the intriguing power of a mysterious figure in a hood.

"But we will remain strong in the face of this crushing tragedy, as our own Princess Historia will today take the place of old, beloved Fritz as queen of our kingdom," Sir Edros exclaimed, beaming brighter than the light electrifying the enormous, circular window behind him. The speech was far from over, but the hooded figure took advantage of the dramatic pause, slowly rising to their feet and clapping slowly. The sharp echo reverberated around the chapel, each clap filling the momentary silence. The air in the chapel grew thick with tension.

"Beautiful speech, Sir," the caped figure said, voice clear and cutting as the blade of a sword. "This kingdom has a very rich history, doesn't it? But, I have to ask, how many of those stories did you make up before you went to sleep last night?" A contagious murmur of whispers spread throughout the room, the noise resembling a swarm of insects. Historia saw the leader of the knights' guild stand slowly from his seat behind the podium. His expression gave off the impression that he was completely calm, but the rigidity of his muscles said otherwise.

"Excuse me?" Sir Edros stated in shock. Historia's eyes flew to the man to see him clutching the podium so hard his knuckles were turning white. The expression of shocked bewilderment looked ridiculous on the Prime Minister's face, so humanly emotional that it clashed with his fantastically proper black suit coat. In any other circumstance, Historia may have given in to a fit of giggles at the sight of such an odd expression on the man's face. She was too transfixed by the hooded specter to laugh now though, her blue eyes flicking back to the figure almost immediately. The mystery of the person beneath the cape was so much more alluring than watching a middle-age man fumble under pressure.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm not doing your handiwork justice, am I? That was definitely more than you could possibly devise in one night. Probably took you at least a month to get just right, didn't it?" the person in the hood continued, casually squeezing around the people sitting in the same row who were more than happy to cower away from the stranger. The voice was feminine, but still, the face was completely hidden, frustrating Historia to no end. "Cause we all know our history is hardly that exciting. Then again, the king's only been dead two weeks. You couldn't have been planning stories all that long. Unless you killed him."

The whispers of the crowd rose in volume. Civilians were looking around in panic, not sure what to do, what to believe. The hooded figure didn't seem to mind, giving a sweeping flourish with the ends of her cape as she emerged into the chapel's main aisle. The cape billowed gracefully around the figure's legs, revealing the hem of a black dress that ended just above a pair of knee high black boots. The fabric of the cape was a rich violet color as vibrant as that of the stained glass. This mystery woman was quite the spectacle, and wanted it that way. "I'm just kidding. You don't have the guts to kill a fly," she laughed, the sound ringing bitterly through the rafters. "But really, I must ask you, if you wanted to dazzle us with fairytales, why did you leave out the best parts?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Sir Edros replied with an air of dignity. The color had almost drained completely from his face as his eyes appeared to be permanently glued on the figure before him. The ministers seated behind him were moving about anxiously. Historia found her eyes continually drawn back to them. Her attention had become a sort of tennis match, bouncing back and forth between the stranger, the Prime Minister, and the fidgety advisors; she was unconsciously entertained by the distraction of watching the train fly off the tracks. Erwin Smith still stood, watching the hooded figure intently with the slightest hint of amusement sparkling in his blue eyes.

The caped stranger gave another laugh, a short, sarcastic cackle that echoed maliciously around the chapel. "Really, now, Edros." The whispers of the crowd began to hum again at the level of intimacy implied in the figure using the man's name without his title. Somehow, the audience found it odd that a person who had already intruded on a royal function would have the ability to be disrespectful to authority.

Historia turned her gaze back to the Prime Minister. Sir Edros's mouth turned down with an irritated scowl as he turned to Erwin with blazing eyes. "Remove the intruder!" the man instructed. The master swordsman nodded silently, pulling his sword from the scabbard at this waist. His steps were so imperceptibly smooth, it seemed as though he were gliding over the floor instead of walking on it as he approached the steps separating the congregation from the dais. The crowd gasped as the blade caught the light, gleaming lethally.

"Uh uh," the hooded specter said holding up a hand covered by a black glove. Erwin paused, his sword still poised to strike. "I would not recommend stepping any closer, Erwin Smith." One of the blonde man's thick eyebrows arched curiously.

"And why not?" he challenged. Sir Edros uttered a strangled sound of frustration at the blonde man's compliance with the intruder.

"Because you're outnumbered," a new voice proclaimed from the rear of the chapel. All eyes turned to the back right corner, accompanied by frantic whispers as a figure clad in a crimson cape walked with slow, methodical steps seemingly out of the woodwork. The voice belonging to this stranger was much deeper, definitely male, but a hood also shrouded his face from view.

"Two is not much of an army," Erwin replied. His tone was not condescending, yet it was enough to send a shiver creeping all along Historia's spine.

"Unless you can do this." The girl in violet responded further by flicking her wrist and cradling a flame in the palm of her hand. Historia's eyes widened as a small gasp caught in her throat. _Sorcerers._ The citizens' chatter rose to screams of fright. The knights in the audience stood, reaching for their swords. Some civilians tried to escape their seats, but were corralled back as three more hooded figures appeared out of thin air, one in blue, one in green, and one in black. The knights felt their courage fail. The stranger in the center twirled her hand and the fire went out.

"We don't wish to quarrel with either you or Edros today, master knight," she said to Erwin over the squawking of the villagers. "We simply wanted to talk to her." A long, gloved finger pointed directly at the crystal pendant hanging over Historia's heart.

"Speak, then," Erwin stated. His posture did not change in the slightest. Sir Edros gave a strangled cry of protest. The figure turned to face the queen-to-be. Historia felt her body freeze.

"I want you to think about what you're about to accept," the violet specter said. "You have the choice whether or not to let them make you their doll. Being queen is more than just sitting on a throne, looking pretty all day. And there's gonna be hell to pay in the near future for this monarchy, and a pretty little thing like you has no business in such matters."

Historia bristled under her words, her light eyebrows wrinkling with indignation. "Of course I know what it means to be queen," she retorted sharply. "And I'm not going to be anyone's doll."

The girl under the hood must've been smirking, it was almost visible in the tone of her voice as she fired back: "Well, that's fantastic for you, dear, but says nothing of my real warning. You have a choice here, and I've just told you that there is a storm coming your way if you accept that crown. Please, choose wisely."

"It seems to me that you won't accept anything but me abdicating the throne before it's mine," Historia answered plainly. "I know the weight of the choice I'm making well enough without such a rude reminder. And I refuse to let my kingdom down in its time of need. Gaiola needs a leader, and I may be inexperienced now, but I promised myself that I would do all I could to help these people thrive. I won't abandon them, and I don't believe your threats."

The audience called out with shouts of praise and pride at the girl's words, feeling the power shift in their favor. Historia let their faith fuel her drive, her back straightening slightly as she glared at the woman in violet.

"You've got spirit, little girl. I like that," the hooded figure said with a nod of the head. Historia felt her cheeks burn. "I hope it's enough. Hard times are on their way. Don't say I didn't warn you. Sorry for the inconvenience, folks, both now and in the future. But on the bright side, you can always remember this one time the Furies saved you from the incredible boredom characteristic of Sir Edros' speeches."

"Seize them!" Sir Edros roared. The crowd started up with cries of outrage to match the Prime Minister's command.

"Is that what you want to be called then? The Furies?" Erwin Smith called over the din of panicked villagers.

"As a matter of fact," the girl in violet began as she pulled her hood back, "that would be ideal."

An ornate mask that faintly resembled the shape of a butterfly hid the majority of her face. Swirling threads of black vines formed a labyrinth over the vivid purple material, drawing the viewer's attention to the girl's eyes. The only part of her face that was truly visible was an arch encompassing the tip of her nose, her red lips, and her chin. The mask almost seemed like an extension of her skin; a luminous, elaborate extension of reality.

"Erwin! Seize them!" Edros yelled.

The people gasped as the other caped figures pulled back their hoods, revealing four more masked visages, each one more intricate than the last. Historia felt her confidence begin to falter as all five masked faces turned to her. The scrutiny of the citizens was nothing compared to this. The girl felt her heart begin to pound so hard, she feared it would beat right out of her chest.

"All hail the queen!" all five Furies exclaimed, each raising their right fist over their heart before disappearing in a cloud of smoke. The vapor was nearly transparent, swirling up towards the vaulted ceiling in intricate patterns like the vines stretching over their masks.

Silence filled the chapel, eerie and dense as a midnight fog. The presence of the Furies still hung in the air as if they'd never left.

"We were too late," Lord Cresca whispered frantically from his seat behind Historia. The man sounded so distressed, the girl nearly whirled on him to ask what he meant. But Erwin Smith didn't give her the chance.

"Historia Reiss," the blond man said, voice loud and clear in the silence. "Will you still accept the crown of your uncle?"

The princess met Erwin's eyes, searching them for something. The man's blue orbs held nothing more than a steely determination. Historia knew he didn't believe her speech, didn't trust her resolve as much as the villagers. His rationality was oddly reassuring but also just the push she needed to prove to herself that she hadn't been lying to the woman in the violet cape.

"Yes," she answered, head bowing ceremoniously. Erwin nodded back to her before turning his attention to Sir Edros.

"The ceremony has been ruined. I suggest you coronate her now before there are any more interruptions," the master swordsman instructed. He slid his sword back in its scabbard as he moved back towards his seat. Sir Edros followed him with irritated eyes.

"Some help you were," Lord Bartton snapped at the blonde man as Erwin calmly sat back in his seat.

"I didn't feel the need to use force," Erwin replied plainly, settling back against his chair. "The princess was not in imminent danger. I would not have allowed them to hurt her." The ministers scoffed as Sir Edros retrieved the crown from a wooden box hidden within the podium. The coronet was small yet fascinatingly intricate, made of silver and glittering with diamonds. Historia had to stop herself from shielding her eyes as the light from the windows reflected blindingly off the crystals. The crown was absolutely dazzling.

Historia stood up straighter as the Prime Minister approached her with the crown, holding her head high. Sir Edros gave a slight nod of the head and Historia carefully knelt down before him, offering her head to the crown.

"Historia Reiss, heir to the throne of Gaiola, I now pronounce you queen of this land," Sir Edros proclaimed, lowering the coronet on the girl's blonde head. The tiara was surprisingly light. As the audience burst with excited applause, the girl rose to her feet, accepting the helping hand offered her by the Prime Minister. Historia stood facing her people, her crown sparkling and lips smiling.


	2. Queen's Court

**Thanks to all you readers who've stuck it out past chapter one! I really appreciate it, and do apologize for the length of these chapters. And the length of the exposition. There's a bit of build up for the main plot, but you get to meet more character this time, so that's fun! But thanks again to all of you; it means a lot to me that you're taking the time to read this piece!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own SNK.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **~~~~0000~~~~**

 _Saturday, August 22, 1513_

 _"What should we do with your hair?" Hitch mused, combing her fingers through Historia's golden locks. The young noblewoman's lips pursed in a thoughtful manner often reserved for more pressing issues than hairstyling. Historia smiled as a small laugh caught in her throat._

 _"What do you mean? The coronation was yesterday," the blonde girl replied, meeting the other girl's eyes in the mirror. "We can do whatever we want with it today."_

 _Hitch shook her head. "Oh no, honey. You're the queen now. You have to look fabulous twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week," she said gravely. Then a cat like grin appeared on her lips, her green eyes sparkling deviously. "Luckily, you have me around to keep you in line!"_

 _"And don't forget about us!" Mina exclaimed from the bed where she was sitting with Hannah. All three girls were the daughters of noblemen, chosen to serve as Historia's ladies in waiting because of the age similarity. Sir Edros had decided that Historia would adapt to life in the castle easier if she was surrounded by people her own age sometimes. Of course, she would still have to spend most of her time with the royal court, which was naturally composed of all adults._

 _Still, Historia was thankful for the presence of other teenagers in the castle. Who knew what would've happened to her at the coronation if Hitch, Mina, and Hannah hadn't been there to fix up her hair and help her pick the perfect dress? Then again, the coronation hadn't exactly gone as planned._

 _A dark shadow clouded over the queen's features as her thoughts returned to the masked figures for the hundredth time since they'd gone up in smoke. It still puzzled her that the sorcerers had been wearing hoods when their faces were already hidden behind those masks. Maybe that meant twice the trouble, a secret so dangerous that they had to keep it doubly concealed from the world. Still more troubling was their magic. The image of the woman with the violet cloak holding the flame had haunted Historia's dreams the previous night. It was the first time she'd ever seen magic performed in real life._

 _"Hey, what's wrong?" Hitch asked, placing a gentle hand on Historia's shoulder as she noticed the other girl's suddenly dark demeanor._

 _"Nothing," Historia replied briskly. The other girl pouted her lips suspiciously, one light eyebrow arching up over the other. The blonde girl forced a timid smile on her lips as she babbled out an excuse: "I'm just… really nervous about being queen, is all."_

 _Hitch's green eyes lit up. "Aw, sweetheart, you have nothing to worry about!" she gushed. Both of her hands now found Historia's shoulders, squeezing them reassuringly. "I'm sure you'll be used to castle life in no time. Sure, the politics will be boring, but I know Sir Edros and the royal ministers will help you out until you get the hang of it. And you always have us to help you in the fashion department, right girls?"_

 _"Of course!" Hannah exclaimed, jumping up from the bed and moving to join the girls at the vanity. Her head appeared in the mirror next to Hitch's, her red hair glowing brightly as the sunlight from the windows hit her braids. "We'll be with you rain or shine."_

 _"Forever and always," Mina added, her head popping up in between the other girls. Historia smiled, meeting the raven-haired girl's eyes in the mirror. The two had known each other for years, growing up practically like sisters. Hearing Mina confirm the other girls' promises made them seem more real._

 _Historia smiled up at her ladies in waiting, seeing them more as her fairy godmothers. "Thanks, girls. I don't know what I would do without you."_

 _The door to the room opened slowly, revealing an older servant woman with a kind face in the reflection of the mirror. "Your highness, Sir Smith would like to have a word with you if you are properly disposed at the moment," she announced with a respectful bow of the head. Historia turned around on her stool to properly face the woman, her cheeks burning at the woman's use of the word 'highness'._

 _"Tell him I am perfectly disposed and look forward to it," the girl replied._

 _"I will, ma'am. He'll be waiting for you in the foyer." The servant woman curtsied before she disappeared, closing the door behind her. Historia stood as soon as the door clicked shut._

 _"Well, I suppose the meetings are beginning already," she said as she straightened out the skirt of her green day dress. The hemline of the skirt fell just below her knees, covering the tops of a pair of stylish chestnut colored boots. The outfit certainly didn't seem queen-like to Historia, but she certainly wasn't complaining. It felt so much more natural than yesterday's ensemble, (even if the rose gown was by far the most beautiful thing she'd ever worn and she had prolonged taking it off.)_

 _"But wait! Your hair!" Hitch exclaimed. She fumbled around on the vanity for a second before turning around with a brush in one hand, a set of ribbons in the other, and a look of desperate hope on her pretty face. "We haven't even gotten started."_

 _"Oh, it's alright; it's just the master of the knights' guild," Historia shrugged. "I think it would be perfectly fine if my hair looked like this."_

 _Hitch sighed dramatically. "Can't I at least pull it up with a ribbon? Please?" Historia sighed herself, shaking her head._

 _"Fine," she consented. Hitch gave a squeal of excitement as Historia moved back towards the vanity. "But quickly! I don't want to keep Sir Smith waiting."_

 _Historia choked back a laugh as she watched the energetic bald kid trip and fall right into his sparing mate, effectively knocking the sword from the hand of a boy with two-toned hair._

 _"Yes! Victory!" the bald kid exclaimed, shaking his fists at the sky from where he'd fallen on his knees._

 _"No fair, that's definitely a technical foul!" the other boy shot back, pointing at his friend in an accusatory manner. As the two continued to bicker, Historia turned to look back at her fellow observer. Erwin Smith was watching the four knights with an amused expression. After they'd met in the foyer, the blonde man had walked Historia down to the courtyard and had her hide around the corner of the walkway so as to spy on these four teenagers: the two boys sparing and two other teens, a boy and a girl, watching. The master knight had said nothing of real importance, asking her about the weather and complimenting her dress and such._

 _"Sir Smith?" Historia asked, keeping her voice low. However, it would have been incredibly hard for any of the four in the courtyard to hear her over the squabbling._

 _"Yes, your highness?" the man asked in response, his eyes never leaving the knights. Historia swallowed hard and repressed a shudder at his use of the H word._

 _"May I ask why you called for me today?" she questioned lightly. "I'm afraid it isn't very clear to me."_

 _The master of the knight's guild nodded. "I can understand that. And you may always ask me anything you wish. As to your current question, it seems that after the incident at the coronation yesterday, the royal court has decided that you should be accompanied at all times by a sect of trained guards. Even while on castle grounds, Sir Edros would prefer that there are at least three people who know your whereabouts. They asked me to assign a team of knights to act as your personal guard while at home, in the village, or abroad. However, I have arranged it so that you may be at your own disposal while actually in the castle, only requiring an escort when out on the grounds."_

 _Historia nodded, soaking in the information. "That makes sense," she replied. "I don't mind. Thank you." Erwin smiled._

 _"I'm glad to hear that. But sharing that with you was not my only intention for this meeting," the man replied. "It was actually to also introduce you to the knights I've chosen for your guard." Historia looked up at the commander of the royal knights again, this time with a hint of excitement. The blonde man simply extended his hand, gesturing to the four teenagers sprawled in the courtyard before them. "And here they are."_

 _Historia blinked as she looked back at the knights. The two boys from before were still on the ground yelling at one another, held apart by the two others who had not been part of the sword fight: a boy with freckles and a girl with her hair pulled high in a swinging ponytail. The fighting techniques that she'd seen before had amazed her. Yet when Erwin had just explained that she'd been assigned a team of knights to watch over her, she'd envisioned a group of grown up men in metal suits, not a gaggle of teenagers._

 _"Soldiers!" Erwin commanded to get the knights' attention. He took a step forward, revealing himself to the four from where he and Historia had been hiding. All four teens scrambled to their feet, saluting their master with perfect precision. Historia could see a bright blush coloring the faces of the boys who'd been fighting._

 _Erwin turned back and gestured for Historia to join him. The young girl stepped forward cautiously. The eyes of all four knights grew wide with a fearful respect._

 _"As you all know, this is Historia Reiss, queen of Gaiola," Erwin continued, turning his attention back to the four knights. "As the queen, Historia must be protected at all times. I have chosen the four of you to serve as her personal guard. Enemies will mistake your identity because of your age, but I know that you are fully capable of protecting this girl. You will be with her at all times, understood?"_

 _"Yes, sir!" all four knights replied in unison. Historia smiled in spite of herself._

 _"Very good," Erwin nodded. "Now, I believe some introductions are in order. You all know Queen Historia already, yet she does not know any of you. Your highness," (Historia resisted a shudder at the mention of the H word again), "I now present you with the soldiers who you will be spending an awful amount of time with in the years to come. First up, the leader of the squad, Jean Kirchstein, skilled swordsman and horseman."_

 _The boy who had been beaten in the dual, the one whose undercut hair was lighter on top and darker underneath, stepped forward with a respectful nod towards Historia. His face was set in an expression of total seriousness, devoid of any emotion. The girl could see why he'd been chosen to be the leader: his naturally intimidating presence would be enough to scare her off. Then again, hadn't she just seen him goofing around with the others?_

 _"Second in command, Marco Bodt, another skilled swordsman as well as an artillery expert," Erwin continued. The boy with the freckles took a step forward as Jean moved back. A genuine smile was plastered on his face as he nodded to Historia._

 _"It's an honor to protect you, your highness," Marco said. His voice was so sincere that Historia felt a blush color her cheeks. Marco's smile also sent a warm feeling spreading through her veins. His enthusiasm was almost contagious._

 _"Connie Springer, a third swordsman who is also a part of our combat unit," Erwin announced next. The bald kid took a step forward with a cheeky smile. Historia nodded back at him. "And last but not least, Miss Sasha Braus, a skilled archer from our sniper squad."_

 _The only girl took a step forward and bowed to Historia just as the boys had. "It's a pleasure to meet you," Sasha added, her brown eyes sparkling brightly._

 _"The five of you are going to spend quite a bit of time together," Erwin repeated. "You four will be with Historia whenever she leaves the castle, and will also be ready to lay your lives on the line for her at all times. Is that clear?"_

 _"Yes, sir!" all four knights cried in unison. Erwin smiled. Historia felt her own lips curve upwards again as her eyes combed over her knights. They may not have been in shining armor, but something was telling her they were perfect in their own special way._

 _Historia also had to admit that just the thought of having people with her at all times made the small lump of fear that had been sitting in her stomach since the coronation almost disappear._

~~~~0000~~~~

Saturday, August 22, 1513

"Guys, can you believe it? Sir Smith chose _us_ to serve as the queen's body guards!" Connie exclaimed. Training for the day had finished, and Historia had been tied up in meetings with the royal court after their brief introduction that morning, so Connie and his friends were free for the evening. Naturally, the excitement of the day had distracted them from making any substantial plans, so they were simply following the rest of the guild back to the barracks until another idea struck. "He must think we're pretty awesome."

"I know. Isn't it amazing?" Marco replied, unable to wipe the smile from his face as they walked along the dirt pathway. The golden sunlight reflected off his brown eyes, making them sparkle. "It's such an honor."

"Guys, you know he only chose us because of our age," Jean pointed out, hands shoved in his pockets. "So we'll look less conspicuous traveling with our teenage monarch." Marco shrugged.

"I don't see anything wrong with that," the freckled boy said in response. "I mean, that just makes it even more of an honor, you know? To be chosen as the best amongst the younger class?" Jean's mouth quirked into a sideways grin as Marco nudged his shoulder lightly. He knew Marco knew he was internally screaming from pride and happiness. What he didn't know was that Marco was on to his tough guy routine and was dead set on breaking him.

"I'm surprised he didn't choose Mikasa," Sasha said thoughtfully. "She's like, the best knight the guild has ever seen. And she's our age, too!" Jean groaned, running his hands restlessly through his hair, leaving random tufts sticking up afterward.

"What?" Connie asked, peering sideways at his friend. "It's not like you got a thing for her or anything. Oh wait… you do!" The shorter boy burst into a round of laughter that left a bitter scowl on Jean's face.

"Connie, be kind," Sasha replied, smacking the boy on the shoulder. Connie hissed and rubbed the sore spot. "It's not like he's been trying to get her attention since training started, or anything. Oh wait… he has!" Both Sasha and Connie peeled off into laughter that Jean found incredibly obnoxious.

"I hate you both," he muttered darkly, hazel eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Oh, don't listen to them," Marco said, placing a comforting hand on Jean's shoulder. The boy with the two-toned hair shrugged him off, crossing his arms over his chest. "You just have to give Mikasa time, Jean. It's only been a few months. Let her get to know you a little more, and maybe ease up on the flirting a little bit. It honestly makes me a little uncomfortable sometimes and I can only imagine what Mikasa must be thinking…"

"No, it's not me. She's in love with someone else," Jean sighed, staring up at the sky. The sun was a satisfying, pre-evening gold, preparing to set for the day. "I can tell by the way she shuts me down. And my flirting techniques are fine, thank you very much."

"Eh," Marco replied, shaking his hand noncommittally. One of Jean's eyebrows arched up, glaring challengingly at the freckled brunette. "Hey, that's just one man's opinion. Take it or leave it. Anyway, who do you think she's into if not you?"

"Oh, she's totally into Eren down at the Dragon's Den," Sasha replied, shrugging casually as if that were common knowledge. Jean's eyes widened in shock, peering across Marco and Connie at the brunette.

"That asshole?!" he exclaimed. Sasha nodded, her ponytail bobbing cheerfully.

"Jean, be nice!" Marco chastised, hitting the other's shoulder much lighter than Sasha had hit Connie earlier.

"Which one's that again?" Connie asked, looking up at the sky as he tried to put the name to a face. One finger tapped his chin as he thought.

"The one with the really bright green eyes," Sasha answered.

"And the horrible personality," Jean added darkly.

Connie gasped. "Oh! I know who you're talking about. What do you mean, Jean? I think he's a pretty nice guy."

Jean scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Of course you do. Everyone loves stupid Eren Jeager and his stupid face."

"You're just jealous because Mikasa thinks he's cute," Sasha teased. Marco held Jean back, involuntarily spinning him around in a circle as the boy lunged for Sasha. The girl giggled as she ran ahead, challenging Jean to follow her with a mischievous wink. "Speaking of, you guys want to head down to the Dragon's Den tonight? We haven't been there in forever!"

"And we could probably get Mikasa to go with us," Connie tempted Jean as if he were offering a treat to a dog. Jean scowled.

"No. I don't want to go now that I know she's into that Jeager jerk," he answered brusquely, smoothing out the sleeves of his shirt as Marco let him go.

"But what about the apple pie? Jean, you love their apple pie," Sasha offered, walking backwards now so she could still be a part of the conversation. "And I mean, you could always try to charm Mikasa on the way down so she'll forget all about Eren."

"Yeah, cause that's worked real well for him in the past!" Connie exclaimed, snickering at his own joke. Jean sighed, giving Marco a suffering look.

"Can you try asking them to stop?" the two-tone haired boy asked tiredly. "Cause they sure as hell won't do it for me?"

"Hey guys!"

"Praise the gods!" Jean exclaimed, reaching his hands to the sky in thanks for the wonderful distraction that had just been sent his way. "Armin Arlert, I have never been happier to see you!"

The blonde boy stood awkwardly, his light eyebrows knitting together with confusion. "Uh… thank you?" he replied as he fell into step next to Jean. "Where were you guys this morning? I looked all over and couldn't find you, and then Mikasa said Sir Smith called you to the castle. What did he want?"

"Nothing much except being promoted to the queen's royal guard!" Connie exclaimed excitedly. Armin's face lit up with a smile.

"Oh my gosh! That's fantastic! All four of you?" he asked, looking to Jean and Marco for confirmation.

"Yep, all four of us," Marco answered with an enthusiastic nod. "Jean's the leader, I'm second in command, Sasha's our sniper, and Connie…"

"Is really just there for moral support," Jean cut in. Connie glared at him. Jean shot a cheeky smile back in his direction.

"Wow, that's incredible," Armin commented, staring off ahead. The sunlight illuminated the bright blue of his irises, the color resembling the ocean. "Congratulations. You four deserve it."

"Thanks, Armin," Sasha chirped. "Want to come grab dinner with us at the Dragon's Den?"

"Sasha, we didn't agree to do that yet," Jean pointed out.

"You mean _you_ didn't agree to," the girl retorted, pointing an accusatory finger at the boy. "And I think that is a grave mistake on your part." Jean's eyes began to narrow yet again when Armin quite literally stepped in. He moved a pace ahead of Jean and began to walk sideways so he could look him in the eye.

"But Jean, you love their apple pie," the blonde boy insisted. "Come on, it'll be fun! Let me go invite Mikasa!"

"Armin, no!" Jean called after him, exhaling with defeat as the other boy ran ahead before he could stop him. "Guess I'm going to the Dragon's Den." Sasha and Connie cheered excitedly as Jean rolled his eyes. "You coming, Marco?"

"Actually, I think I'm going to skip out this time," Marco said, stretching his arms above his head.

Sasha's mouth hung open with shock. "But Marco! We even convinced Jean to go…"

"I know, and I'm sorry, but I'm just so tired," the freckled boy replied. "You know I'd stick it out if I could. But… I just feel really out of it, you know?"

Connie's face screwed up in an expression of confusion. "You don't seem out of it," he commented, giving Marco a quick once over. "You've had plenty of enthusiasm and energy all day. What gives, man?"

Marco shrugged, gazing up at the sun as it began its descent for the day. "An exciting day like today can really take a lot out of a guy. You guys have fun. I'll see you later."

"Suit yourself," Connie said in reply. "Want us to bring you something back?"

"No, but thank you," Marco replied. Jean shook his head. "What?"

"Come on, you try so hard to get me to participate in group activities, then you shirk out yourself?" the two-tone haired boy questioned. "Not cool, Marco." The freckled boy offered him a simple smile.

"Jean, just because I'm missing out on the fun doesn't mean you should," he said in response. "You're always so serious. Live a little!" Jean scoffed and rolled his eyes. Marco grinned, a laugh catching in his throat. _That's my Jean,_ he thought to himself.

 **Thank you for reading! Feel free to comment/critique (I'd appreciate it!)**

 **I also promise things will pick up plot-wise soon, all the pieces just have to be set first!**

 **Read on!**


	3. Dark Clouds

**Hello again, dear readers! Thank you all for continuing to keep up with this story, I promise it will get better! And I promise Ymir will actually come in soon (I didn't realize how drawn out this beginning was until now. And for that I sincerely apologize)**

 **Note: There are no telephones in this world, you communicate through letters. Thus the address joke later…**

 **I sincerely hope you will enjoy!**

~~~~0000~~~~

 _Friday, August 21, 1513_

 _The Prime Minister's summons immediately following the coronation came as no surprise to Erwin. Sir Edros hated surprises and heaven knew he'd received one hell of a surprise today. In fact, the only thing he hated more than surprises was insubordination, especially when he was already flustered by a disruption. Naturally, knowing these two crucial characteristics of the man, Erwin didn't have to be a genius to know that he was currently at the top of the Prime Minister's uncooperative list._

 _"Sir, we were in complete control of the situation," Erwin said calmly, his arms tucked firmly behind his back as the two men made their way down one of the castle's numerous corridors. The Prime Minister was walking much quicker than usual, his footsteps echoing off the stone walls, sharp and frantic compared to Erwin's slow, steady stride. The blonde man felt that he would have had trouble keeping up with the man if he weren't taller than him._

 _"Erwin, she could have been killed!" Sir Edros hissed for the second time, glaring at the master knight with cold blue eyes. "And then where would we be?"_

 _"They weren't going to kill her," the blonde man replied. His tone remained neutral as he spoke, with the sense of authority only an experienced commander could pull off. "Killing a monarch is not the choice first move of a rebel group, or at least not the kind these sorcerers want to be. They want attention, to spark fear, and in order to do that properly, Historia needed to be threatened, not killed. Therefore, the girl was never in any danger."_

 _Sir Edros stopped walking and stared at his companion. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his dark eyebrows knitting together curiously. "How could you possibly know what they want?"_

 _Erwin answered, "I've been a soldier for a long time, sir. I've seen and read about numerous revolts and conspiracy groups, so much so that identifying them has become second nature to me. Trust me, sir, the girl in purple never would have revealed herself so plainly if she'd planned to kill Historia, she would've done it in secret."_

 _The Prime Minister sighed, glancing away at the floor. "I suppose you know more about it than I do," he conceded. "But still! The fact that someone out there is trying to…" The man trailed off as a look of pure terror filled his pale face. He turned wide, panicked blue eyes on Erwin. "You don't think they're trying to revolt, do you? The magic-kind I mean?"_

 _"I haven't thought of it, to be honest," Erwin replied candidly. "It is a possibility. However, I'm under the assumption that its more likely to be a simple uprising of the sorcerers and magic-kind in the kingdom opposed to our recent legislation."_

 _"Simple?" Sir Edros exclaimed, his forehead creased with angry lines as the frown on his lips took over his whole face. "Just a simple uprising? Erwin, that sounds preposterous! There's no such thing as a_ simple _uprising! Especially when there's magic involved. Why do you think we've been trying to eliminate the magic-kind in the first place?"_

 _"I'm perfectly aware of your reasons, sir," Erwin said with a nod. "But I must stand firm in my suspicions. I believe your persecution of the magic-folk in the kingdom is causing backlash amongst them, and the appearance of those sorcerers at the coronation proves it…"_

 _"But what reason have they to lash out against us?" Sir Edros cut in, running a slightly shaking hand through his dark hair. "We have been perfectly reasonable with them. They were given advanced notice to move to another kingdom years ago. We peacefully asked them to leave, and they refused. We're simply upholding our end of the deal. And we haven't even been enforcing the punishment tenet of the Mystic Relocation Act as hard as we should be…"_

 _"Yes, but Sir Edros, people generally do not take being relocated kindly," Erwin interrupted as politely as he could. "Especially when the law specifically targets a select group of people."_

 _The Prime Minister sighed, rubbing a hand across his eyes. He'd begun to feel older recently, and that troubled him. "I know, I know. But they have to understand the danger they pose, the fear they incite in regular folks like us. No sensible monarchy would allow such hazardous beasts to run loose in their kingdom; it's just not smart. Not after the dragon wars ten years ago, or the sorcery shenanigans that took place in Hartford last year, or the lycanthropy outbreak not even two years back! Magic is terribly powerful, Erwin, and if one doesn't have it, they can only be safe once it is eliminated."_

 _Erwin studied the man before him as he let the words sink into his brain. Sir Edros was spooked, that much was clear. The nervous tremor in his hands, the distant look in his eyes, the way he constantly smoothed out his dark, thin mustache, all were symptoms of a manic anxiety that the knight had never seen in the man before. The Prime Minister was usually one of the most well composed people Erwin had ever crossed paths with, walking about with an air of complete and suffocating confidence. It was as if life were a book that Sir Edros already knew the ending of before everyone else had finished chapter one, (and it sometimes seemed that he also owned the author's supplemental notes as well so that he had both the main storyline and the underlying themes and tones memorized and at his disposal to use at will). Seeing him now, anxious and scared, was like seeing a completely different man. It was almost frightening._

 _"I'm not disputing your position, sir," Erwin finally spoke. Sir Edros fixed a pair of hopeful blue eyes on him. "I'm just advising that we should tread carefully. While it may not be a full rebellion, it's clear that these sorcerers have taken it upon themselves to be some kind of warning or flag bearer or nuisance for magic-kind. I know we haven't seen those Furies for the last time. And we will be prepared next time they strike and work to stop their shenanigans before anyone gets hurt. I've already assigned a group of my men to start gathering reconnaissance around the city. I would also like to propose a team to serve as bodyguards for the queen. I have a few knights in mind, and I wanted to know what you thought of putting a few of my younger soldiers on the job. I believe a guard team of teenagers would raise less suspicion. And I can assure that despite their age, they are highly trained soldiers and the most talented amongst their class. What say you?"_

 _"I think that sounds like a wonderful idea," Edros nodded enthusiastically. "Your reasoning seems perfectly sound to me. Would you also increase the guards all over the castle? After the intrusion today, I fear that nowhere is safe anymore. What if they try to attack a member of the royal court?"_

 _"I will see to that immediately, sir," Erwin replied. "Especially with the ball next week."_

 _Sir Edros' eyes lit up. "Of course! The ball! I nearly forgot!" He laughed, his face regaining its natural color as his thoughts shifted to happier things. Erwin knew the conversation about magic-kind was over, and that was just as well. He knew the issue would resurface soon enough, and he'd deal with that when the time came. But for now, he was glad to distract the Prime Minister with the illusion of happier thoughts. "We will have to crack down on preparations tomorrow morning!" Erwin smiled as the dark haired man began to walk again, falling into step behind him. It was clear the Prime Minister thought they were smiling for the same reason: preparing for a party. He had no idea Erwin was actually grinning because he did not have to be present for party planning because he was just a knight, after all. "Just think of how beautiful Historia will look in a ball gown! She looked marvelous today, don't you think so?"_

 _"The perfect image of a princess," Erwin replied. "She's a very good looking young lady. You'll have quite a time finding a young man to match her one day."_

 _Sir Edros' eyes bulged slightly. "Come now, Erwin. She's only sixteen. There's still plenty of time before we even have to consider marriage." He was perfectly scandalized by the thought._

 _"Yes, sir," the blonde man replied, trying his best not to laugh at the comical reaction of the Prime Minister of his kingdom. He was as close to a boss as Erwin had, after all._

~~~~0000~~~~

Saturday, August 22, 1513

"What're you having?" the blonde waitress asked, pen poised over a miniature notepad. Her bright blue eyes scanned the occupants of the table as if she were picking a victim to sacrifice. They were regulars; she knew them all by name. But that didn't make her like them any better.

"I think we're all just going to have a slice of apple pie," Sasha spoke for the group, tentatively meeting everyone's eye and smiling when they proved her right. "Yeah. Five pieces of apple pie, please!"

The blonde girl nodded, scribbling the order down as she walked away.

"Your address would be nice too!" Connie called after her. The girl turned an icy glare back at him that sent Connie and Jean into a fit of giggles. "Oh, messing with Annie has got to be my favorite sport."

"Well that's good, considering you're like the least coordinated person I know," Sasha replied, shrugging casually. Connie narrowed his eyes at her. "Seriously, you tripped over air the other day."

"No! There was a hole in the ground, and you saw it and didn't warn me!" Connie exclaimed, pointing a finger across the table at the brunette and nearly spilling his water all over Armin.

"Whoa, children, calm yourselves," Jean said, pushing Connie back against his chair just hard enough that the other boy didn't tip over. "We're in public." Connie stuck his tongue out at Sasha. Sasha replied by mimicking the gesture.

"Have I ever told you that I really enjoy hanging out with you guys?" Armin stated. "Cause I do. You're fun people."

As a chorus of 'thank yous' and 'aw, Armins' rang out, a brunette waiter approached the table with five perfect slices of pie balanced on a tray. Jean felt his heart freeze as Mikasa sat up a little straighter. _Eren._

"Order up!" the green eyed boy said with a gleaming smile as he began to slide the plates to the members of the table. "How are you all doing tonight?"

"Wonderful!" Sasha exclaimed as her plate appeared in front of her. Eren smiled.

"How's the knights' guild?" he asked, green eyes gleaming at the mention of it. "Are they training you to fight dragons yet? Or is it still just boring hand to hand combat and such?"

"Still the same old routine," Connie replied, settling back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. "But listen to this. Sasha, Jean, Marco, and I just got promoted to serve as the queen's personal guard. They wanted younger knights to be with her so we'd look less suspicious."

"Cause no one looks as inconspicuous as Connie." Sasha pointed her fork in Connie's general direction as she sniped him around a bite of pie. The bald boy glared at her and attempted to grab the fork from her hand. He was too slow and Sasha laughed at him.

"Congratulations," Eren said in response. "But, to be honest, why didn't they put you on the team, Mikasa? People are saying you're the best knight the guild has ever seen."

Mikasa shrugged, her cheeks turning the faintest pink at his words. "I don't know. I'm sure Sir Smith has his reasons, and I'm willing to do whatever he says. If he didn't want me on the queen's guard, I'm alright with that."

Eren frowned. "Well, I think Sir Smith made a terrible mistake. I think you would make the perfect leader for the queen's squad."

"Hey, don't discredit the real leader here," Jean spoke up with a satisfied grin. "Of course I think Mikasa should be on the guard with us, but if she's right and Sir Smith chose us for a reason, I mean, the title of leader shouldn't be taken lightly…"

"Wait a second. _You_ are the leader of the squad meant to protect the queen?" Eren interrupted, pointing at Jean to further extenuate his point. Jean nodded proudly. The brunette snorted, laughing in spite of himself. Jean's hazel eyes set into a deadly glare.

"You got a problem with that, Jaeger?" he asked, a threatening edge to his tone.

"No, of course I don't have a problem with an arrogant, horse faced, wimp being in charge of protecting the monarch of our kingdom," Eren said sarcastically. "I think that sounds like a fantastic idea. Put the kid who only joined the knights to live in the castle at the head of the most important team in the military."

"At least I'm _in_ the knights' guild," Jean fired back. Eren's green eyes widened as his expression melted from witty mastery to offended shock. Jean had hit him where it hurt, poured salt on the one wound that refused to heal. The two-tone haired boy knew exactly what he was doing when he said it too. And he'd wanted so desperately to be nice, he really had.

The tension at the table was palpable. Sasha and Connie's eyes moved continuously between Eren and Jean while Mikasa glared daggers at Jean's head. Eren's expression darkened, the gears in his head obviously working on another grating insult to match the caliber of his opponent's attack.

Armin gasped suddenly, the sound like a screeching choke. His hands flew to his head, eyes clamping shut as he began to tremble violently.

"Armin?" Connie exclaimed, standing up with his hands slamming against the table. The blonde boy began to mutter nonsense. "Armin?!"

Mikasa grabbed ahold of Armin's hands. "Armin, can you hear me?" she asked, voice soft yet forceful. "Armin?" The boy continued to mumble incoherently, rocking slowly back and forth. Mikasa tried to pry Armin's hands away from his head, but his muscles were so tense, it was as if they were frozen in place. The boy's mutterings were growing in volume. The girl met Eren's eyes with a sense of urgency. "Eren, he's gonna start screaming."

The brunette raced off towards the kitchen, dropping the tray to the floor. Mikasa began to run her fingers comfortingly through Armin's hair, biting her lip as he continued to shake and gasp. His eyes were still shut tightly, as if he were in incredible pain.

"What's going on?" Jean asked. Mikasa met his eyes with a look of panic. The sandy haired boy immediately jumped out of his seat and took up a place at Armin's other side, rubbing gentle circles into his shoulder blades. "Is he a…?"

"Yes," Mikasa answered plainly. Her eyes were glued to Armin, staring at him with wide eyes as if he were a rabid animal that could strike at any second. Jean had never seen her look so helpless before, and was overwhelmed by the desire to pull her into his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay. But in order to do that, he'd apparently have to break Armin out of whatever spell had befallen him. Would a hug solve that too?

"Where is he?"

All four of the teens at the table whirled around as a brunette woman ran over to them and fell to her knees next to Jean. The boy slid and made room for her closer to Armin. Eren was right behind her, nervously wringing his hands. "How'd it start?" she asked, staring intently at Armin through a pair of thick, round glasses.

"He just… sort of gasped suddenly and then this started," Jean answered. "I don't know what set him off, though. Seemingly nothing." The woman nodded, gesturing for them to give her more room. Jean and Mikasa moved away tentatively as the woman pulled Armin's hands away from his head with a considerable amount of force and gently stroked his palms with her thumbs. The boy slowly stopped shaking. His eyes peeled open, revealing orbs that shone a luminous, solid white. Sasha gasped, reaching for Connie's hand across the table.

"What do you see, child?" the woman asked, her voice authoritative yet sweetly soft. Armin blinked once, twice. The third time, his eyes opened back to their normal blue.

He looked up at the woman with wide eyes. "It's going to rain next Friday," he answered blearily. "During the royal ball. Nothing will be ruined; it's just going to be very wet outside. Also, it doesn't look like there will be any interruptions at the ball, either. Not like the coronation." Armin took a deep breath. Then his blue eyes curiously examined the woman kneeling in front of him. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

The woman smiled. "I suppose we'd better let the royal court know about the rain and lack of disturbances so they can plan for it." She then extended a hand to the blonde boy. "My name's Hanji Zoe and I'm one of the co-owners of this fine establishment."

"How did you know how to…? Are you a seer too?" the blonde boy asked, his eyes widening with awe. Hanji nodded with a satisfied smile. Armin accepted her hand and shook it firmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am. I've never met anyone who knew how to stop a vision before."

"Anytime," the woman replied, taking a step back and wrapping an arm around Eren's shoulders. "I've heard a lot about you, Armin Arlert. Ever since this one started telling me about you and the stories from when you were kids, I've been dying to meet you. It's been years since I've met a trueborn seer like yourself, especially at such a young age. Tell me, when did you have your first vision?"

"Hanji!"

The teens at the table jumped and whirled around guiltily as the figure of the restaurant's owner appeared behind them, broom in hand and apron completely wrinkle free. He may have only been five foot two, but he was decidedly the most deadly man in the entire kingdom. Many questioned why he'd left the knights' guild to run a restaurant of all things.

"Yeah, Levi?" the woman replied jauntily, turning to face him with a gleeful smile.

"Don't suffocate the child with your questions. The kid just a vision for gods' sakes," the man said sharply. "You know how shitty you feel after those. Leave him alone. You're needed in the kitchen, anyway."

Hanji sighed, placing her hands decidedly on her hips. "Well, I guess that's that. Armin, we'll be in touch." With that, the brunette disappeared once more behind the counter, into the secret realm of the kitchen. Armin sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing circles into his temples.

"Armin, you okay?" Connie asked fearfully.

The blonde offered him a weak smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. My head just hurts."

"You should drink your water," Eren said, reaching for the glass and carefully placing it in front of his friend. "You should eat your pie too. Eating helps, doesn't it?"

"Well, it's helped before," Armin answered, taking a generous sip of water.

"So you've always been a… seer, then?" Sasha questioned, her brown eyes staring at the blonde with a mix of curiosity, apprehension, and awe. Armin nodded in response. "How come you didn't tell us?"

Armin shrugged. "It never really came up."

"That's what you do for the knights' guild, though, isn't it?" Jean asked. His tone wasn't accusatory in any way, just genuinely curious. Armin simply nodded again.

"When we were kids, after our parents died, we thought that his ability could be of use to the king," Eren explained. "So we applied to the military, and it just so happened that they had recently dismissed Hanji when we showed up. Yeah, she's an ex-knights' guild member too," he added at the confused looks that met his statement. "They thought the idea of training a seer from childhood would be a huge asset to the monarchy and took him on."

"Why'd they dismiss Hanji?" Armin asked. Eren shrugged.

"Dunno. She's never said," the brunette answered. "She's only ever told us that she used to be a part of the knights' guild. And we don't really like to question Hanji any further than what she gives us because that conversation can go on for hours…"

"Eren! Get back to work!" Levi's voice called from the counter. Eren flinched, stooping down and retrieving the tray he'd dropped earlier.

"Guess that's goodbye," he said, smiling reluctantly. "Armin, I hope you feel better. I'll catch you guys around. Don't be strangers." Eren hurried off to another table, flashing a charming smile to a group of older women as he pulled a pen and notepad from his apron to take their order. Mikasa watched him go, her eyes trailing after him until he disappeared through the kitchen door. Jean's eyes followed hers down to the wire, his heart sinking a little even though he already knew what she was thinking.

"It's always an adventure when we come here," Connie commented offhandedly.

"Well, what do you expect? The word dragon is in the place's name," Jean replied, standing up and moving back to his seat. He thrust his fork into the slice of pie in front of him and thoughtfully examined the mutilated piece. "That's just asking for adventure."

 **Thank you all for reading! As always, I'd love to hear what you're thinking, so feel free to drop a comment below and make a curious author's day!**

 **Also, I am going to publish the next chapter this Wednesday in order to get this thing moving faster. I fear for Chapter Four, that it may be boring and tedious, but again, it's laying the foundations for character development and setting up the world we're working in, so bear with me and look for that on Wednesday. After that, I'll try to stick on the Saturday updates, but may go faster until the real action begins. Thank you for your patience!**

 **Have a wonderful day/night wherever you're at!**


	4. Child's Play

**As promised, how's chapter 4 a little early! Enjoy!**

~~~~0000~~~~

 _Wednesday, August 23, 1509_

 _"I think it would be fun to marry a baker," Historia mused, looking up at the blue sky. Perfectly fluffy white clouds rolled lazily by as a warm, summer breeze rippled through the green grass like waves on the surface of a pool of water. The young girl felt the wind tugging at her hair, which was pulled back in a braid and covered with flowers she'd picked up on the trail through the meadow._

 _Sprawled on the grass next to her, Mina shrugged. "I suppose so. But don't they have to wake up really early?" she asked. "Not to say that that's a bad thing but…" She was silent for a second, considering the situation. "Okay, maybe it's a bad thing."_

 _Historia laughed. "I don't think it would be so bad," she said, her blue eyes glowing bright as the sky itself. Mina giggled and gave her friend a soft push on the shoulder._

 _"That's cause you're a morning dove. I'm a night owl," the raven-haired girl said, smoothing out a wrinkle in her pink summer dress. Historia's light eye brows arched up in thought._

 _"What does that mean?" she asked._

 _"Mama says it sometimes. Haven't you heard her?" Mina asked in reply. Historia shook her head. "Oh. Well, I don't actually know what it means, but I think you're a morning dove if you like to be awake and night owl if you like to sleep more." She pointed a finger at Historia as she said, "And you would be a morning dove because you like to wake up early," and the finger moved towards herself as she finished, "and I'm a night owl because I like to sleep in."_

 _Historia nodded, satisfied with the answer. "That makes sense," she replied, staring off at the trees in the distance. "Who would you want to marry, then, if marrying a baker and learning how to make bread and frost cakes and stuff doesn't sound fun to you."_

 _Mina's lips pursed together as she thought. The little pink and yellow flowers Historia had stuck in the ribbons of the girl's pigtails practically sparkled in the sunlight against her shiny black hair. "I guess… If I could marry anyone, I'd want to marry a prince. Not from Gaiola, though, some place far away that we can only dream about." She smiled over at her companion. Historia grinned back._

 _"Don't we all want to marry a prince?" she giggled. "What would yours look like?"_

 _"Oh, he would be tall, but not too tall, with blonde hair and blue eyes," Mina answered as if she'd seen him before. "He'd be sweet and funny, and of course, charming. He would love animals and have a great relationship with his trusty steed. And he would have a beautiful singing voice. Oh, and he would be very intelligent and also brave. But he wouldn't be a knight. No, he would just be a prince. A perfect prince. You know, if one existed."_

 _Historia nodded. "Why wouldn't he be a knight? I thought princes were all supposed to be knight. With shining armor too!"_

 _"I just… I wouldn't want him doing anything dangerous where he might die," Mina answered, looking down at the grass and running her fingers through it listlessly. "I'd be too scared of him meeting a werewolf or a sorcerer or a dragon to let him go."_

 _"That makes sense," Historia said. "But why should he be scared of sorcerers? I thought sorcerers were good? Don't they, like, grant wishes and help the princesses get to the balls or the princes fight the dragons?"_

 _Mina shook her head, her gray eyes widening as her pigtails bounced around her head. "Oh no! Historia, those are fairy godmothers. Sorcerers are bad. I heard one of my dad's friends say that a sorcerer was the one who caused the dragons to attack during the dragon wars." Historia frowned._

 _"Girls!"_

 _Both girls turned at the sound, meeting the figure of Lady Carolina coming towards them on the path that lead to the noble family's house. The woman was carrying something in her hands that looked like a small box. Her hair, dark like Mina's, was pulled up into a bun with a few strands left purposely framing her face, and the yellow summer gown she wore blew gently against her legs as she walked. Historia had always thought that Lady Carolina was a beautiful woman, and that Mina would grow up to look just like her._

 _"Hi, Mom!" Mina greeted brightly, smiling as Lady Carolina settled into a sitting position on the grass. She set the box down next to her. "Is something wrong?"_

 _"Well," the woman began, folding her hands in her lap. "There is talk that the king might not make it much longer."_

 _The girls exchanged worried glances, worried gray orbs meeting concerned blue pools. "Is he sick, Aunt Marcy?" Historia asked as both pairs of eyes turned back to the woman._

 _Lady Carolina nodded. "Yes, dear. It is mostly old age, but his health has been rapidly declining recently. While many nobles still believe that he will recover, and Uncle Michael and I believe that as well, some are certain that this will be the end. And, in the event that it is, there is something that you have to know, Historia."_

 _The blonde child's eyes widened, her light eyebrows knitting together as the dark haired woman carefully lifted the box and offered it to Historia. The girl didn't take it, instead staring curiously at the offered wooden box._

 _"Historia, you know that you came to live with us when you were about two years old," Lady Carolina began. Historia nodded. "We always told you that we found you one night, that someone had placed you in a basket on our doorstep." The girl nodded again. "Well, that wasn't true." The blonde girl's eyes moved from the box to those of her guardian, wide with disbelief. "We didn't find you in a basket. Uncle Michael rescued you from a fire in the east wing of the castle. The fire that… killed your parents. Michael and the others were only able to save you and maybe two other noblemen." She paused. "That is how you came to live with us."_

 _The woman paused again, gauging the reaction on the child's face. Historia sat motionless, her mouth hanging open slightly, her blue eyes clouded with surprise. She could practically see the gears turning inside the girl's mind, processing everything she'd just said. Lady Carolina took a deep breath before continuing._

 _"No one knows how the fire started, not even after all these years. I know this is a lot to throw at you now," she continued. "And I'm sorry we couldn't tell you sooner. We wanted to wait until you were a bit older to tell you. But, if you ever want to talk about them, your parents that is, Uncle Michael and I knew them very well and would love to tell you all about them. They were wonderful people, Historia." The blonde girl smiled, only her lips moving as her eyes returned to the box, listless and blank. "But there is one more thing, the most important thing. The reason we had to tell you now."_

 _Lady Carolina pulled back the lid of the box, revealing it to be a music box. A tiny dancer, dressed in red and twirling on her toes, spun around as a soft tune began to escape from the depths of the box. Both Historia and Mina's eyes widened as they stared at the spinning figure, hypnotized by its beauty._

 _"This music box belonged to your mother," Lady Carolina said, watching the two young girls. "It was a gift from Queen Violet."_

 _"Queen Violet?" Mina asked, looking up at her mother. "Did Historia's mother know Queen Violet?"_

 _Lady Carolina smiled sadly. "Yes, she knew the queen very well. She was married to King Fritz's brother." Historia froze, only her eyes moving back to meet the woman's._

 _"Does that mean that I'm a… I'm a princess?" she asked incredulously. Lady Carolina nodded, her black hair gleaming in the afternoon sun._

 _"It does. And in the event that the king dies… well, we won't think about that now," the woman corrected herself, shaking her head softly. "King Fritz will be okay for years to come. But I still think it was worth telling you the truth now." She placed the music box in Historia's hands. "I'm very sorry if I upset your day with such heavy news. We didn't want you to know until you were at least sixteen, but many of the nobles thought it would do some good to tell you now."_

 _Historia shook her head, a genuine smile creeping its way up her lips. "No, I'm happy you told me. I'd always thought my parents gave me up because they didn't want me. But now I know that… even if they're gone, they didn't give me up. They loved me. They did love me, didn't they?" Lady Carolina smiled._

 _"More than the world itself," the woman said, smoothing Historia's hair back. "Your mother would be so proud of the beautiful young lady you're growing up to be." She then turned to her own daughter, smoothing her hair back as well. "And your mother is very proud of you, too."_

 _Both girls smiled._

~~~~0000~~~~

Monday, August 24, 1513

"I now call the meeting to order," Sir Edros proclaimed, projecting his voice so that it echoed around the chamber over the din of the royal court's chatter. He hit a gavel against the table five times to gather their attention. Historia flinched with each beat. The room fell to silence. The Prime Minister straightened the collar of his suit coat before continuing. "Thank you. Now, we will begin as always with the roll." He addressed a thick, official looking piece of parchment. Historia glanced sideways at the list from her raised seat at the head of the table, with Sir Edros sitting next to her. "Lord Cresca?"

"Present," the man answered, raising a stiff hand. Sir Edros checked off his name.

"Lord Dreyse?"

"Present."

"Lord Carolina?"

"Present."

And the list went on and on in the same fashion, each name was met with the simple answer of 'present', no deviations in word choice or inflection of the tone. Historia nervously inspected each person as his or her name was called, her brain working on hyper speed to catalogue each figure. The task, she knew, was too overwhelming to work, as she could hardly remember the first ten names called, but didn't give up finding each face after the automatic 'present' sounded.

Historia was already somewhat acquainted with the men of the royal ministry, those who served directly under Edros and thus, directly under her. She wasn't, however, comfortably familiar with them yet, knowing only their faces and vague memories of the names attached to them. Still, they were recognizable, and much appreciated amongst the sea of ministers, nobles, courtiers, and representatives seated around the large, circular table in the great hall. Not to mention the fact that the ministers actually looked at Historia as if she were a human. The others fixed exaggerated smiles on her, watching her as if she were something magical bound to do something spectacular at any moment. There was a gleam of something behind all of their eyes, something the girl couldn't quite place. Regardless, all the eyes made her wish her chair wasn't raised a level above, giving the nobles the perfect vantage point to gawk at the teenage queen. It wasn't quite a throne, but it was so ornate, it could easily have been one. Not to mention the fact that the mahogany chair dwarfed Historia, the back extending so high above her head that she looked like a small child playing queen instead of a real monarch presiding over a meeting.

If the eyes and the awkwardness of her position weren't enough, the meeting chamber itself added yet another layer of stress to Historia's already overflowing plate. The sheer size of the room was daunting, with a high ceiling (just low enough to prevent over excessive echoes, but still so high one had to crane one's neck to look directly up at it) and walls decorated by paintings and tapestries depicting past monarchs and scenes of gruesome wars and battles. And the circular meeting table in the center was certainly unlike any Historia had ever seen before. The center of the circle had been cut out, leaving a hollow hole of space in between the delegates seated primly in their polished wooden chairs. Historia didn't know what to make of the odd design, but it seemed to fit and was somehow peculiarly beautiful.

"Thank you for your cooperation," Sir Edros finished after the last name had been called. "And it appears that we are in full attendance today, how lovely." He slipped the scroll for roll away into a portfolio, producing a different piece of official looking parchment. "Today, as it is Queen Historia's first official meeting, I will handle the role of presider and will address your questions and concerns as needed." He paused to shine a dazzling smile back at the girl. Historia responded with as gracious a grin as she could muster. "Have no fear, your highness. You'll have a hang of these meetings in no time," Sir Edros continued as he turned back to the nobles. A few of the ministers in the crowd muttered their accordance with the Prime Minister's reassurances. "We shall center our agenda on inaugurating our new monarch into the routine of our royal gatherings. The meeting will begin with business as usual, hearing a summary of achievements, grievances, and prospective plans from each of the wards."

The sound of papers rustling rippled around the circle like a flock of birds taking off from a tree. Historia's spine straightened, her nerves buzzing with a mix of anxiety and excited anticipation. As terrifying as it was, this meeting marked her first real act as queen. It was also a crash course in how to run a meeting, and Historia was beyond thankful for this opportunity to observe the procedures and practices the first time instead of being dropped headlong into the lion's den without a sword.

"Are there any objections to this proposed agenda?" Sir Edros asked, his blue eyes scanning each face around the table. Not a murmur resounded. Even the papers stopped. "Very well. We shall begin. Will the representative of the Finance Ministry please stand to address the queen?"

An older man, probably in his late fifties, with thin blonde hair that covered his head in a smooth wave and sharp dark eyes magnified by a pair of spectacles stood from his seat with a practiced grace. "Thank you, Prime Minister," the man began, straightening the lapel of his black suit jacket as he spoke. "Your highness," he said, addressing Historia with a respectful nod of the head. The girl stiffened in her chair and gave a gracious nod in response. "Honorable representatives. I would like to thank you all for being present today. For those I have not had the pleasure to meet, I am Lord Harrington of the Finance Ministry. I would like to begin my report with a statement of the state of the treasury, including investments, revenues, and expenditures since out last meeting, as well as to introduce our lovely new monarch to the financial system." He turned another cheerful smile towards Historia before addressing a thick piece of parchment laid on the table before him.

"In summary, the Finance Ministry is responsible for the wealth of the kingdom," Lord Harrington continued. "We work closely with all the other departments of the royal court, funding all projects. We have a hand in trade agreements and commerce acts, we fund wars, we provide patronage to those who request it of us… we are in charge of quite a bit within these walls." He gave a humorous little chuckle. "We report every month on the welfare of the kingdom's treasury, and a break down of how money is moving in and out of the kingdom. As it stands for this month, our public funds stand invested 30% to the commerce district, 29% to the department of trade, 18% to the military, 12% to the education system, 5% to agriculture and infrastructure, 3% to religious organizations, and 3% to the art organizations."

An exasperated huff sounded. "Naturally, you'd snub the arts," a woman sitting across the table from Lord Harrington muttered bitterly. Her lips were pursed together in a terribly sour expression, as if she'd taken a bite out of a particularly tart lemon. The awfully puffy sleeves of her emerald green dress and the profuse amount of feathers on her hat only accented the harsh, vexed qualities of her face. To Historia, she looked like an old woman who would sit on her porch at night and yell at children for playing too loudly… yet she couldn't have been older than fifty.

"My dear Lady Knell, it is hardly a snub," the finance minister said in a pacifying voice, aiming a charming smile in the woman's direction. "Your department is still receiving a considerable amount of funding. And in the essence of fairness, as far as money is concerned anyway, the art institutions have not been producing as much revenue as in the past."

"Well, it hardly seems fair to me. How can we be expected to produce an equal amount of revenue when our funds keep getting cut?" Lady Knell replied. "Soon enough, we won't be able to maintain the level of esteem we're desperately clinging to now. We shall fall behind our contemporaries if we keep losing national funds."

"Then perhaps you should stop misplacing the money you're given," another noble sniped with a peevish grin. "You know, once you drop a coin in a bottle, it's a hell of a time pulling it back out." A murmur of chuckles sparked around the table as Lady Knell gasped with mortified indignation. Historia felt lost, her cheeks burning as the apparent joke went right over her head.

"How dare you even insinuate the notion that my department is wasting its funds on something so vulgar?" the lady in green hissed, awfully scandalized. "I'll have you know that my ministers never even touch that devil's liquid."

"Oh, dear Gretchen, you innocent fool," the nobleman from before sighed, his voice heavily laced with pity. "Your men must have a considerable talent for the art of acting if they've truly kept you in the dark about the after hours life of the artist. Then again, who wouldn't want try to find the light at the bottom of a bottle after working with a peach such as yourself?"

The nobles peeled off into another round of laughter as Lady Knell's face turned bright red, her lips somehow pinching together even tighter. The woman turned outraged eyes on the young queen, but the girl was only able to stare back at her, observing the ministers' laughter with scandalized shock. She'd never witnessed such brutal teasing before, not even in the schoolyard when she was younger. And these were adults, adults viciously poking fun at one another. If life wasn't tricky enough already, now the world seemed to be pulling the rug out once again from beneath the girl's feet, showing her a whole new side of the coin in which the grown ups had the maturity level of children. Or perhaps the maturity of children with the intelligent vocabulary of the scholar.

"Ministers, ministers please. Let Harrington finish," Lord Dreyse (Historia knew his name since he'd been first on the roll) spoke up, a bright smile lighting up his face. "We've hardly heard any of his speech."

"Oh, yes, there it is," a man in a purple suit coat said in reply. "Gretchen, that's how you brown nose the finance department to get the funds you want."

"That was hardly brown nosing," Lord Dreyse replied, completely taken aback. The look of hurt on his face made Historia feel guilty. It didn't seem to have the same effect on the other ministers, though.

"Of course not. You're from the department of trade. It's the commerce men that have it down to a real science," the first noble replied flippantly. "But, kissing up or not, we should let Harrington finish. Please, sir, do go on."

Lord Harrington, who for his part looked slightly miffed at having his speech side railed by such childish nonsense, yet had done his best not to get involved in any way, straightened his suit coat once again and picked up where he'd been cut off.

"That is how the public funds have been divided for this month. I also have requests for the departments of commerce, trade, agriculture, and the arts regarding the upcoming ball," he said, addressing his notes yet again. "The report on the expenses for the occasion will be included during next month's meeting. Thank you."

With that, the man sat back down in his seat. Historia offered him a smile. It wasn't hard to see that Lord Harrington had been rather thrown off by the bickering his speech had incited. The girl sympathized with him; she'd been put off by it herself.

"Next, would the representative of the ministry of infrastructure and agriculture please speak?" Sir Edros asked, looking around the faces. Historia's eyes followed his, resting on a red haired man in a midnight blue vest who stood with the most cheerful of smiles on his face.

"Thank you, Sir Edros," the man said with a nod before turning his gleaming green eyes on Historia. "My name is Lord Maize, and I have been the head minister of the department of agriculture for five years. And dear Historia, allow me to take this chance to welcome you to the throne. Gaiola is lucky to have such a young, brilliant, and beautiful monarch ruling over its walls."

The man's words were nothing but kind, yet the intensity of his grin gave the girl a startling rush of claustrophobia. She politely averted her eyes only to be met by a sea of similarly blinding grins from all the other nobles gathered at the table. The room suddenly felt very small as Historia fought the urge to shrink in her seat, avoiding all the eyes staring her down. All the attention was absolutely suffocating. Had King Fritz had to deal with this too? And if he did, how did he manage to put up with this for all his forty-four years on the throne?

"Thank you, Lord Maize. That's so very kind of you," Historia replied, her blue eyes meeting his emerald orbs again. The man gave her a satisfied nod before addressing his notes.

"The department of infrastructure and agriculture does not have much to report this month, but _lettuce_ get on with it anyway," Lord Maize began with a cheeky grin. Historia gave an amused chuckle. A few other laughs sounded around the room, most of them tinged with pity. "We have had a plentiful harvest of broccoli, onions, peas, and turnips this month. We are also expecting fantastic yields of apples, carrots, pumpkins, and other melons amongst other crops for our Harvest Festival this fall. _Beets_ me how our farmers do so well." Lord Maize laughed at his own joke, his laugh earning him more chuckles than the pun itself. Historia found herself giggling again. "And _corny_ as it is, the infrastructure ward hasn't been doing too bad either. Renovations on the housing district have been completed in plenty of time for winter. Heavy rain is predicted for the autumn, so our renovations will get plenty of practice before the snow sets in. Sure wouldn't want Mother Nature to rain on our parade, now would we?"

The queen brought a hand to her mouth to hide her smile. She'd never been able to withstand the power of a pun. And the butterflies in her stomach certainly weren't helping, making the jokes seem funnier than they were.

"And now that the village has received adequate repairs, our architects are drawing up plans to fix up the commerce district," Lord Maize continued. "In particular, the roads. How can our merchants be expected to do their jobs when the cobblestones are all askew? They're more like hobble-stones, if you ask me."

A giggle erupted from Historia before she was able to stop it. The girls' hand flew to her mouth and her cheeks burned as all the eyes in the room flew to her like cannonballs fired at top speed. She tried her best to avoid their eyes, catching a few gazes of intrigued amazement despite her attempts. It was as if the meeting had been frozen in time, paused momentarily because she'd broken character. Even Sir Edros was looking at her. Historia knew she'd messed up without all the fuss the silent gazes of the nobles were making. For as childish as they could be, they still expected her, the actual child in the room, to be mature.

"But that is about all the department of infrastructure and agriculture has to report this month," Lord Maize began around the awkward pause, beaming at Historia's amusement with his jokes. The discomfort in the room was painfully palpable. The queen was tempted to apologize. "We will be in touch with you all about the Harvest Festival next month. Thank you for your time."

The red haired man sat back down as Sir Edros stood up, like two ends of a seesaw. The Prime Minister cleared his throat, fighting the tension visible in the nobles' posture and shifting eyes. "Next, will the representative of the knights' guild please rise and address the court?"

"Yes, sir," a woman with short blonde hair replied before rising to her feet. The woman wasn't dressed like the other occupants of the table. Instead, she wore a loose fitting white shirt that half hid a plate of silver armor that seemed to wrap around her torso like fabric and green pants held up by a thick, brown belt. Numerous belts of the same dark brown wrapped around her legs at different intervals. Historia wished she could see the woman's shoes, picturing them as complimenting the rest of her look rather well.

"Thank you, Sir Edros. Good morning, honorable representatives. Pleased to meet you, your highness," the woman began in a clear voice, bowing respectfully to Historia. "My name is Nanaba, and I am one of the commanding officers of the knights' guild. I am filling in today for Sir Erwin Smith, as he is occupied today with delegating a squad for improved castle security in the face of Friday's incident."

A new swell of discomfort flushed through the crowd in the form of fidgeting and mumbled whispers. Historia's faux pas seemed to dissolve like sugar in the tidal wave of the coronation incident. The queen felt her own spine straight at the brief mention of the fateful disruption. She still couldn't get the image of the Furies out of her head, particularly the flame in the purple one's hand.

"Yes, yes, I know that we are all still a bit shaken up from the events of Friday," Nanaba continued. "However, my report today from the knights' guild concerns the coronation and how we are planning to address the situation at hand. Erwin Smith is under the impression that the interruption at the coronation was nothing but a show. A distraction. Not an assassination attempt, but a warning. This will not be the last time we see the Furies, as they've chosen to be called. Whether their intentions are malicious or not, we are still unsure. However, we do know that we will never be able to overcome them if we remain afraid of them. Fear gives them power. And while I know it's still very early to know what those sorcerers are about, the knights guild would like to ask each and every one of you for your trust and faith in us as we take every measure possible to keep Gaiola safe."

Historia's eyes were glued to Nanaba as the woman's speech continued on to talk of what the guild was doing regarding troop deployment throughout the kingdom; how many were on reconnaissance, who would be analyzing the reports, the number that would be stationed in the castle. The queen felt herself listening selectively. While the kingdom's safety was of the utmost concern to her, (and it really was), the very thought of the Furies striking again intrigued her in a terrifying sort of way. Their little show at the coronation was most definitely a threat, but malicious intentions or not, Historia was not about to sit idly by as a group of people in hoods and masks scared her citizens half to death, even if she numbered amongst those scared silly by their antics. Then again, the Furies weren't just average people playing a game; they were sorcerers while Historia was a sixteen-year-old girl who'd been queen for three days. Still, if what Nanaba was saying was true, that the knights' guild was ready to fight against the sorcerers, then magic or not, the odds were looking pretty good for the queen.

Still, the icy cold grip of fear clung to the back of Historia's heart every time she thought about that little flame or the curls of smoke left behind like shadows when the five had vanished into thin air.

"And so, in conclusion, I would like to once again ask for your trust," Nanaba said, her blue eyes meeting Historia's. "A storm is most definitely on its way. Sorcerers can be a powerful ally, but a terrifying enemy. We will do our best to discover the identities of these Furies, and bring them to justice if necessary. For now, we will increase security in all sects of the kingdom and remain alert for any antics the Furies may pull. The knights' guild will protect you until the end; all we need is your trust and support. Thank you." The blonde woman sat down to a round of respectful applause from the nobles, who were thoroughly pacified from all previous qualms and jests after the gravity of her speech. Historia felt her hands moving of their own volition, her eyes still watching Nanaba as the woman carefully tucked away the papers she'd hardly looked at during her speech.

 _Even when the words were written by someone else, she made them sound liker her own,_ the girl thought as Sir Edros stood to acknowledge the next speaker. _Authentic and… honest. They don't know what's going on either. No wonder she's a commanding officer; she knows how to get us to trust her and the people she's representing._

Historia felt the gears of her brain twisting and turning restlessly as the next man rose, his tan skin accented by his shining white teeth as he flashed her a winning smile. She was the queen now. She had to inspire trust in these people. They had to believe in her, like they had believed in her when she'd stood up to the Violet Fury at the coronation. But that meant that she'd have to do it again; she would have to have another confrontation with a sorcerer or five. And heaven knew she was far from ready for that. The tingling in her spine that had accompanied the very thought of the Furies told her that much. Yet it seemed that so far, being queen meant that very little consideration was taken for Historia's feelings.

The queen bit her lip as the minister of trade stood to address the court. A sudden rush of inspiration exploded in her mind and she focused her ears on every word the man said, desperate to know the foundational functions of the royal court meetings. Whether she felt like it or not, Historia wasn't just a teenage girl anymore. She had responsibilities, and if one of them was to stand up to a group of sorcerers trying to terrorize her people, well, then she'd do it. But in order to do that, she'd need to win the love of her people first. And if she wanted to inspire hope and trust in her kingdom, Historia knew she had to start learning. Now.

 **Thanks for reading! Chapter 5 will be out Saturday (and guess who's making their first appearance?)**

 **Have a wonderful day/evening!**


	5. Behind the Mask

**I'm sorry this is a day behind schedule, but things were busy yesterday with family. So here we are, a day late, with what I think might be the most fun chapter yet (or at least it was the most fun to write up to this point!) I sincerely hope you enjoy!**

~~~~0000~~~~

 _Saturday, August 15, 1513_

 _Reiner held the mask as if it were made of glass; terrified that it would break into a million pieces if he so much as looked at it the wrong way. He felt horribly awkward holding the fragile work of art in his large hands, the difference in size more daunting than fighting a dragon. Which he'd done before. So Reiner knew that his frame of reference was perfectly sound in saying holding this mask was scarier than facing a dragon as big as a church._

 _"Annie, these are beautiful!" Bertholdt exclaimed quietly, breathlessly, as if he were admiring some natural wonder of the world. His fingers only lightly grazed his mask, which he'd chosen to leave on the table._

 _"Thank you," the blonde girl replied, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. There were dark circles under her eyes, smudges of paint on her skin, and the glittery remnants of malleable working magic all over her clothes, yet the girl looked content. Bertholdt smiled to himself as he continued to absently stroke the mask he'd be wearing in less than a week. "Yours was especially tricky, but also exceptionally fun."_

 _The boy's green eyes looked up inquisitively at his fellow apprentice. "What do you mean?" he asked. Annie's lips formed the ghost of a tired smile as she gently leaned across the worktable and pointed out the detailing on the black mask._

 _"See how on the other ones the detailing is in black?" she questioned, a thin finger tracing the swirling pattern. "Well, I didn't want to change the color of the working magic, so I changed its resolution slightly. Now, when the light shines on it, the pattern will appear iridescent, as if it were reflecting off a gem. I also threw a bit of that onto mine and Eren's because they were darker, but yours was the real masterpiece." The girl looked up to find the brunette staring at her instead of the mask. Bertholdt smiled, admiring Annie's absolute brilliance. Not only was she an incredibly gifted sorcerer, she was also an incomparable artist. And of course, paint and glitter smudged or not, she was the prettiest girl Bertholdt had ever seen, (though he'd never say that part out loud in fear that she'd smite him for being a sappy moron.)_

 _"These really are spectacular, Annie," Reiner added as he carefully set his crimson mask back next to its sisters on the table. "Beyond my wildest expectations. I think the nobles will give us points for style when we storm the castle."_

 _"Now there is a bit of a catch," Annie said, settling her weight into one hip as she crossed her arms over her chest. "As you should know, these things are heavily laced with magic. The upside is that they'll never fall off. The downside is that you'll have to remove your mask with magic, and it's probably going to hurt, with some potential temporary scarring and bruising. But I think that's a fair price to pay for what it's worth."_

 _"Definitely," Bertholdt replied with a nob. "Much better than losing a limb. Or your soul."_

 _"But let's be honest, who steals souls anymore?" Reiner asked. "So last century." Annie scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Are we going to have to give these things a test drive before the big day?"_

 _Annie shrugged, stretching her arms above her head. "Probably. Levi will want to make sure they work," she said. "Hanji too. You know how paranoid they are about us using magic in public." The girl stifled a yawn into her fist. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go sleep for a couple days. Make sure I'm up before the coronation."_

 _"Of course," Bertholdt replied. He watched as the blonde moved away to the door that led to their living quarters. "Get some rest. You deserve it."_

 _"Don't let the bed bugs bite," Reiner added._

 _"Yeah, yeah." Annie waved noncommittally, not even bothering to turn around to acknowledge Reiner as she disappeared into the hallway and up the staircase that led to the bedrooms. Bertholdt watched the space where Annie had disappeared, a smile unconsciously lighting up his face. "Dude, you gotta tell her."_

 _Bertholdt flinched, stiffening as he turned away from the door, fumbling with his fingers. "T-tell her what?"_

 _Reiner laughed, settling back against a counter that was free from any magical objects. The brunette lifted self-conscious olive eyes to his friend. "Come one, Bert, I know that you've got a crush on Annie. I've known for years, and have been desperately waiting for you to tell me."_

 _"I knew you knew," Bertholdt said, more to himself than to Reiner. His gaze fell back to his fingers, nervously avoiding Reiner like he wanted to avoid the subject._

 _The blonde smiled. "So when are you gonna tell her?" Bertholdt met his friend's eyes, looking for an answer. All he got was a solid wall of golden hazel, revealing not even the slightest hint of an answer. Reiner wasn't going to give it to him this time; it was all on him. The brunette sighed, his fingers lightly grazing his mask again._

 _"After all of this is over," he answered. "I'll tell her then. There's no point in worrying about it when we have a more serious job to do." His eyes lingered on the five masks on the table. "It'd probably just get in the way anyway…"_

 _Reiner shook his head. "Bertholdt, that's the point of love," he said. "It's supposed to get in the way."_

~~~~0000~~~~

Monday, August 24, 1513

Eren's face was a mask of determination, his emerald eyes gleaming with an intense glare aimed at a teacup.

"Okay, Eren, just focus," Hanji said slowly, her own dark eyes fixed intently upon the brunette teen. She was sitting on one of the dining room chairs, knees pulled up to her chest to hold the notebook she currently had her pen hovering over, waiting for Eren to do something noteworthy. "Breathe and focus."

The boy closed his eyes, the image of the little, white teacup seared in his memory. He took a deep breath. Without opening his eyes, Eren carefully laid his hands on the table, palms to the worn, wooden surface. He could feel energy pulsing through the table: remnants of working magic left over from Annie's latest project. Eren ignored it, instead clearing a path directly towards the blank presence of the cup.

He didn't need to open his eyes to see the cup levitate away from the table, but he did anyway.

"That's it," he heard Reiner whisper from somewhere behind him. "Keep it steady now."

Eren felt his tongue slip to the side of his mouth as all of his energy streamlined into keeping the teacup in the air. He slowly slid his hands back from the table, folding them neatly behind his back as the cup began to move. The levitating object made small, circular orbits in the air, each circle growing a little wider until it was circling the table. Hanji was scribbling furiously in her notebook, glancing up every now and then and observing the teacup as if she'd never seen one fly before.

"Eren, can you make it flip over?" Ymir's voice asked. "That's the next step, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Bertholdt's quiet voice replied. "But only try it if you feel absolutely comfortable with what you're doing now." Eren nodded, his head barely moving so he could continue to watch the cup's flight path. He let the teacup complete three more circles around the table before he narrowed his eyes again, willing the thing to flip.

The cup froze in midair, quivering slightly before falling to the floor.

"No!" Eren cried, lunging forward hopelessly as the sound of shattering porcelain echoed through the workroom. He let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, we probably should've said that you have to keep focusing on the levitation at the same time," Reiner said guiltily. Eren turned his eyes to where his four fellow apprentices were leaning against the back wall, and the only wall not covered with glass or cabinets or shelves of magical objects. "But hey, you got the cup to levitate. That counts for something."

"It's more than you could do," Ymir replied, nudging Reiner with her elbow. The blonde boy glared at her as the girl gave him a cheeky smile.

Eren sighed, his eyes imploring Bertholdt for an answer. He'd mastered the art of the puppy-dog face, his green eyes far too pitiful for his own good. Bertholdt didn't necessarily need the extra convincing, but it worked regardless, leaving him with a sense of obligation to solve the situation. Ymir shook her head as the tall brunette pushed himself off the wall and moved to examine the broken pieces.

"Reiner was right about balancing your focus; you have to keep part of your mind repeating the levitation sequence while the other executes the flipping over," Bertholdt explained, kneeling by the broken teacup and carefully touching the pieces. "It's like layers, you build one off the other. If you take away the foundation, everything will come tumbling down on top of you."

"What did he break?" Levi's voice asked from the doorway, sounding a disquieting mixture of angry, indifferent, and resigned that sent a shiver up the spines of everyone in the room. All six froze momentarily, still as statues. None of those were ever good from Levi.

Eren slowly turned with what he hoped was an innocent smile on his face as Bertholdt quickly spun his hand over the broken pieces, perfectly reassembling the teacup before standing to face the man in the doorway. Levi eyed the tiny, white cup in the brunette's hand, noting that it happened to be one of his favorites. His eyes then slid to Eren.

"See, nothing's broken," the teen in question argued. His smile wavered as Levi's grey eyes continued to stare him down, cold and deadly as always.

"He won't learn if you keep fixing things for him, Hoover," Levi said plainly. Bertholdt looked away guiltily, placing the teacup gently on the worktable before nervously clasping his hands behind his back, and seemingly shrinking a few inches. "Eren, if Enchanting is too difficult, master Defense first," the man continued, grey eyes still boring into him like a termite eating through wood. Eren could feel his resolve dissolving, watching it fade from his reflection in his master's pupils.

"Yes, sir," Eren muttered, his ears promptly turning a bright red as he nodded respectfully. He didn't break eye contact though, sticking it out through five painful more seconds of letting Levi stare him down before the man broke first to address his colleague.

"And Hanji," Levi sighed. "Stop letting them practice with the good china."

"Right," the woman said, writing a check in the air with her pen. "I'll remember that for next time." Levi clicked his tongue before disappearing back into the hallway. A short silence fell over the room as they listened to the echoes of his shoes disappear down the hall, culminating with the click of the door as Levi returned to his office.

Eren moved quietly towards the table, his finger tracing the rim of the teacup.

"Can you explain the process to me again?" he asked. Bertholdt looked over at Hanji, silently asking her permission. The woman smiled.

"Go ahead," she prompted with a nod. "Forget about Levi. He's just worked up about our plans to infiltrate the royal ball because we don't actually have a plan yet and we only have four days left to make one. And he also gets kinda mad when we break things."

"Wait, we're infiltrating the ball?" Annie asked, taking a step forward from the wall. Hanji nodded, biting the end of her pen before scribbling a few final notes on her notepad.

"They told us when you were sleeping after making the masks," Ymir replied. "And I suppose we forgot to tell you. For like a week. Sorry about that."

Annie shrugged, settling back against the wall with her left hand resting on her hip. "That's fine with me. I never said I had a problem with it. I just wasn't aware it was happening."

"Either way, how about we get back to learning Enchanting and talk about the ball in forty-five minutes when lessons are over?" Eren suggested with just the tiniest hint of sarcasm as he shrugged his shoulders overdramatically. Ymir rolled her eyes as Annie just shrugged noncommittally. "Is that a yes?"

"Whatever makes you happy, Jaeger," Ymir said in reply, looking up at the ceiling. "The rest of us can already do this stuff. Except Reiner. Cause he's a loser."

The blonde boy smirked. "Really? Loser? That's all you got? I'm shocked. You're more skilled with witty insults and clever wordplay than you are with Enchanting." Ymir snapped her fingers, the bored expression on her face not changing at all. A red bucket appeared above Reiner's head. There were audible gasps as the bucket proceeded to tip and drop at least a lake's worth of water over his body. The water magically disappeared as soon as it touched the floor, leaving Reiner the only thing soaked by the downpour.

"Try me," the freckled brunette said plainly, the slightest flash of a challenge sparking across her golden irises. Annie snorted against her volition, stifling the rest of her laughter behind her hand.

"Nice one," Eren commented, unable to stop a wide grin from stretching the length of his face.

Reiner stood completely still, blonde hair plastered to his forehead, watching Ymir with a silent contempt that was felt more than understood. The boy snapped his own fingers then tapped his head. His hair and clothes dried immediately.

"Amazing," Hanji whispered to herself, much louder than she'd intended. "Reiner, how did you do that?"

"It was a Charm," he answered, turning towards his instructor with a smile. "I combined the forces needed to summon fire and wind and projected them on myself to a degree that would evaporate the water, but not cause any physical harm." Hanji began to write furiously on her notepad, the wild look in her dark eyes magnified by her glasses.

"And Ymir, what about you? How did you do," Hanji paused, making a wild gesture with her arm to symbolize the bucket trick. "That!"

A satisfied smirk appeared on the girl's lips before she answered. "It was all an illusion, with a tiny bit of reality throw in. Just enough to wet the tongue, you know?"

"Or drench your friend," Reiner corrected only a little bitterly.

"Friend is a very strong word," Ymir replied, giving the blonde boy a look of pure condescension. Hanji was too wrapped up in her note taking to see Reiner stick his tongue out at Ymir. The freckled brunette just shrugged her shoulders before clapping twice. The door closed with a resounding _slam._ "Okay, Enchanting lesson. Eren, that was your demonstration for today. Now listen to Bertl cause he can actually tell you what that was cause I got nothing."

Eren shifted his eyes from Ymir to Bertholdt, pointing his fingers hopefully at the taller boy. Bertholdt nodded, moving to the table. Eren waltzed up to the opposite side of the table, his whole body tight with anticipation.

"Enchanting is about breaking the bonds between reality and the imagination," he began, using his hands as he spoke. "There are numerous levels of both, and of the space in between. In order to successfully Enchant something, you have to be conscious of all the layers, keeping them all working simultaneously like the gears in a clock."

Bertholdt began to run his index finger across the surface of the table. Glittering gold markings appeared everywhere his finger touched, trailing behind him like the tail of a kite and creating a swooping pattern of smooth, golden lines. After a few seconds, the sparks cooled into a strong, midnight blue labyrinth of shapes and symbols.

"Touch it," Bertholdt prompted, gesturing towards the masterpiece of midnight blue spread before him. Eren reached out a tentative hand, slowly resting his palm on top of a symbol that resembled a sun. He quickly drew his hand away, gasping at the sensation of a thousand pins sticking into his skin. Sounds of alarm rose from the other members in the room, Hanji rising from her chair. Instinctively, Eren cradled the injured hand with the other, examining his palm. His skin looked perfectly normal, not a welt or abrasion in sight. His emerald eyes met the olive orbs of his partner with a look of stunned confusion.

"This is the core of Enchanting," Bertholdt explained, smiling with the slightest hint of self-satisfaction one only saw when he was using magic. He leaned slightly against the table as he pointed to the symbols etched on its surface. "Engaging someone's senses to make them believe that something is real even when it's not. You can see the lines on the table, you felt something that made you pull your hand away from it. Would you believe me if I said no one else in this room can see what you see right now?"

Eren cast his eyes around the room, noting the confusion in Reiner's eyes, the excited apprehension in Hanji's posture, the hint of frustration in Annie's gaze as she stared at the table. His focus turned back to Bertholdt. "They can't see it, can they?"

The tall brunette shook his head. "Only you can because that's the way I wanted it. Enchanting, as precise and mechanistic as it is, is really just a game. You are the player, there are no rules, and both reality and your imagination provide the pieces. You build your illusion with your mind. I think that's where you're having trouble." Eren's eyebrows knit together in thought.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked.

"He's saying that it's different from the work of a Charmer or a Defender, or even an Engineer," Annie answered, propelling herself from the wall and waltzing up beside Bertholdt with her arms crossed over her chest. "Those three take their energy from the real world, whereas the work of an Enchanter originates in the imaginary and plays with the real."

Bertholdt nodded, explaining further as Eren continued to look confused. "As a natural born Charmer, you're used to manipulating the physical world with your physical body. You channel the elements and make them do what you want through hand motions or words or touch or something. Basically, you summon the magic you want to wield. Enchanting is different. While Enchanting also manipulates the physical world, you control it with your mental body, your spirit if you will. You take what's real and make it illusory. You don't summon, you imagine. You can still snap or clap or something if you want, but you don't have to, because you set it off with your mind. And it can be hard to make that switch, but once you master that, you'll have Enchanting down in no time."

"That's why it's the most difficult to master," Reiner added, a sense of encouragement in his tone.

"And why we hate those born with that trait," Ymir said with a suffering look at Bertholdt that the taller brunette replied to with a sheepish grin.

The door to the room swung open and Levi entered again, this time sweeping into the room with a scroll of rolled up parchment in his hands. He moved straight to the table, Bertholdt's designs melting before Eren's eyes just as the paper was unrolled on top of them. All five apprentices gathered around the table, absorbing the limited words on the paper.

"Okay, I have the strategy outline for our next attack on Wednesday, and the final plan for the ball," Levi said, staring intently at the paper before him. "It took far too long to work something out for the ball with my correspondent, and this is terribly last minute, but what can you do? It's not like we're trying to overthrow the monarchy or anything serious requiring stable plans made in advance."

"You're so dramatic," Hanji said, sidling up next to Levi and resting her elbow on the top of his head. Levi brusquely nodded her off. Hanji smiled as her eyes combed the page, and her elbow found Levi's head again. "So, what's the plan?"

"Which one?" he asked, refusing to acknowledge Hanji's antics a second time and allowing her elbow to stay where it was, mocking his height disadvantage.

"Friday. We all know what's up with Wednesday," the woman replied.

"We're going to have two informants on the inside, posing as party guests," Levi explained, pointing to a short paragraph of words that detailed the plan. "Our correspondent believes it would be more beneficial to have a reconnaissance mission this time instead of pulling another trick. Stir things up again on Wednesday, then settle the waters a bit so they'll let their guard down. I believe the same. I don't expect them to forget, but they'll get comfortable, and then we'll strike again." He paused for a second, taking a quick scan of the room to ensure that everyone was following along. "The two on the inside have the task of figuring out the current state of the panic in Gaiola, particularly amongst the upper ranks of the nobility, those closest to the queen. Scope out the scene, but act like regular partygoers. Don't arouse any suspicion whatsoever. You're just regular teenagers talking about your kingdom and other useless whatever like that. Got it?" He received a number of nods and muttered 'yes's'.

"Who are you going to send in, then?" Annie asked, looking up at Levi.

The man exchanged a quick glance with Hanji, who for her part, played the role of an informed partner rather well. "Ymir and Reiner," he answered. "Your heights compliment each other the best. And I need the rest of you to keep charge of the restaurant for the night. Hanji and I have plans with a few old friends. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," all five teens answered.

Levi nodded. "Right. Friday, we infiltrate the ball. Wednesday, we strike the commerce district. Today, we stop breaking my teacups. And tomorrow, we learn how to clean an oven without using magic."

A collective groan rose from the five teenagers. Levi smiled to himself. "Did you really think we didn't know you five have been cheating for years?"

"I knew right away the first time it happened," Hanji added, still resting against Levi's head. "But we thought we'd let you have at least one job that could be completed with magic."

"However, you're all about sixteen now. I think that's old enough to learn how to properly clean an oven the manual way," Levi finished, pushing Hanji's elbow away with an air of finality. "Tomorrow. After the afternoon shifts. In the kitchen. It'll be fun."

"I feel like you have a different definition of fun from the rest of the population," Ymir commented. Snarky as the comment was, it lacked the vicious bite Ymir's sassy remarks usually had when aimed at her fellow teens. There was even a trace of respect in her tone, if one looked deep enough.

Levi shrugged. "You've never cleaned an oven by hand before. How do you know it isn't the most fun you've had in your entire life?"

"Well, it just sounds like buckets of fun, to me," Ymir replied. "Doesn't it, Reiner?"

"Don't talk to me," the blond replied. Levi felt his eyebrows arch up with curiosity as his apprentices shared a laugh. He glanced at Hanji. The woman simply laughed along with them, seemingly in on the joke. Levi sighed, trying his best not to smile. For a bunch of screwed up children with terrifyingly messy pasts and the weight of sorcery planted on their shoulders, his brats seemed to have a gift for astounding him with how normal they could be. It almost made him want to hug them, patting their heads and praising them for their accomplishments.

Then he remembered that they were teenagers and forgot the notion entirely.

 **This chapter was incredibly fun to write and I sincerely hope you enjoyed it. Now, I know there's a little more explanation necessary for the magic, but all in good time, my friends!**

 **As always, please feel free to leave comments! Any comments/critiques you may have would be lovely!**

 **Thank you so much for reading! :3**


	6. Evening Adventures

**Welcome back, dear readers! I was asked to list the ships that will be appearing in this story, so I've listed them in the notes at the end of the chapter if you're interested!**

 **I would like to draw your attention to the dates at the start of both parts of today's chapter. I won't say anything more, just watch the dates. :)**

 **As always, I hope you enjoy!**

~~~~0000~~~~

 _Wednesday, August 26, 1513. 7 p.m._

 _The commerce district was quiet at seven in the evening. Many of the storekeepers still had their doors open for business, but most of the customers had already made their way back to the village for the night. The bank closed at 6:30, and now the bankers and clerks were making their way out, milling about the streets and chatting as they made their ways home. The clock tower began its hourly serenade, giving seven chimes that echoed throughout the main square._

 _The stillness that usually encompasses the street at seven in the evening was interrupted on the fifth chime of the hour as a beam of light shot down the street out of thin air, white and hot. The jetstream disappeared almost as soon as it had appeared, leaving many folks blinking and shaking their heads to assess if what they'd seen was real or not._

 _As a form of confirmation to the reality of what they'd just witnessed, the stones of the pavement began to crack. Uneven patterns of breaks in the street gave way to rapidly growing vines. The stems, green as emeralds, grew larger and larger as they surged upwards. As they grew, the vines intertwined with one another, forming a verdant cage around the merchants, bankers, and civilians gathered on the street. Shrieks of terror filled the square._

 _"Relax, they're just plants. They aren't going to hurt anybody."_

 _The people's eyes flew to a figure leaning precariously on a twist in one of the largest vines. A cape green as the plants spread like wings behind him as he stood up, spinning on his heel with a whimsical flourish. The crowd gasped, moving towards the opposite end of the enclosed street._

 _His face was hidden behind a mask as green as their leafy prison._

 _"It's the same sorcerers from the coronation!" one man shouted, pointing upwards._

 _"The Furies!" another cried._

 _"Very good. We were beginning to think you all had forgotten about us."_

 _The cries of panic sounded again as the crowd moved like cattle away from the voice of the woman in purple swooping down from another section of the vines. She carefully hopped to the ground, her violet cape billowing around her like the wings of a bird before her feet met the pavement without a sound._

 _"W-what do you want with us?" a banker called out, his wide, panicked eyes switching back and forth between the two figures in violet and emerald._

 _"Nothing in particular. Just wanted to stir the waters a bit."_

 _The crowd was starting to feel even more entrapped as the sorcerer in blue appeared from yet another corner. Most of them hadn't paid her mind at the coronation. But few found themselves able to look away as the girl approached them, her blonde hair flowing in soft curled tendrils behind her. The citizens cowered as she drew closer. The young woman in blue paused two steps from the citizens. Her thin lips curled up into a smile as delicate and beautiful as the swirls of glittering black on her mask. Like she knew something they didn't. She looked deadly._

 _"After all, how can you rule a kingdom without fear?" she asked, voice quiet as a whisper. Yet her words tickled the back of every citizen's neck as if she were standing right behind them._

 _Only a few of the people saw the Fury in black, hiding beneath a knot in the vines, snap his fingers. The vines exploded in white flames, burning up from the top down into black ashes that glittered into nonexistence until nothing but the square remained. The Furies disappeared with the plants, dissolving in midair. The silence that befell the square felt unnatural and painful; charged by fear and disbelief._

~~~~0000~~~~

Wednesday, August 26, 1513 6 p.m.

"And you're sure Sir Edros said this was okay?" Historia asked for at least the fifteenth time as the carriage continued along down the road leading from the palace to the village.

Across from her, Sasha nodded her head with a cheerful smile. "Yes, your highness. We were right there when Sir Smith asked him if it was alright if we took you out for a bit, and we heard Sir Edros clearly give his consent. You're free! Well, for tonight anyway."

Historia smiled, relaxing back against the red velvet seat. "Thank you all. You don't know how much this means to me." Next to her, Connie smiled, patting her hand soothingly.

"Anytime, your majesty. We thought you could use a break after being locked up in that meeting hall for three days," the boy said. "I'd have lost it after two hours! What do they even talk about for that long?"

"You'd be surprised how much they have to talk about," Historia answered, her eyes shifting between her three companions. "And how much of it is absolutely pointless! While there are a lot of important things to get done, like assessing the kingdom's finances and talking over trade agreements and planning military maneuvers and things like that, so much of that turns into senseless teasing and jokes! We would have been out of there in one meeting if those nobles could just learn to get along!"

Jean chuckled lightly as the blonde girl groaned, rubbing her hands over her eyes in frustration. "Sounds like you need this break more than we thought, you highness," he said. Historia met his eyes with a tired but appreciative gaze. Tiny dark rings, almost invisible unless you looked close enough, hung like shadows under her blue eyes, the only clue to the terribly long week she'd been having so far. But the smile on her lips hid the exhaustion well.

"You know, you guys don't have to call me you highness or your majesty or anything like that," Historia said in reply. "You can call me by my first name."

"Sir Edros told us that was how we should refer to you," Connie said. "It's an order."

"Well, as the queen, I official revoke his order and replace it with my own that when we are alone, you must call me by my first name, Historia," the blonde girl decreed with an air of lightheartedness. The three knights shared a smile. "And you have to promise to pass that on to Marco as soon as he feels better."

"We will, your high- Historia," Sasha said, catching herself and blushing at her mistake.

"Yeah, it's a real shame Marco isn't here. He missed out on the last time we went to the…"

"Shhhh! Don't ruin the surprise!" Sasha cut Connie off, forcefully holding her finger in front of her lips. Connie rolled his eyes with a noise of exasperation, holding his hands up defensively. Historia giggled.

"Well, you don't have to wait too long. We're here," Jean announced, peaking out the window. The carriage came to a halt just as the words left his mouth. "Told ya," he said, pushing open the door and sliding out first. He held his hand out to Sasha to help her down. Connie jumped next, as Jean refused to help him.

Both Jean and Connie extended a hand to help Historia. The girl took both proffered hands, even though she didn't need either, and carefully stepped to the ground. She'd gotten out of a carriage before, that part wasn't scary or new. She'd also gotten down without any help on multiple occasions. But it felt nice to know the boys were there, and accepted their help gladly.

Once all four teens were out in the open, Historia's eyes wandered to the destination they'd chosen for her. They had arrived at the strip of buildings that bordered the waterway, the sound of the river lapping against the bank filling the air. If she turned her head to the left, she could see the water rushing along merrily, only a short wall made of sand colored stone separating the bank from the village. The building standing immediately in front of her was marvelous. The front wall and the wall facing the river appeared to be made entirely of glass, as did the roof. The wall facing the street, though constructed of stone, held numerous windows of all shapes and sizes, still capturing the natural light and beauty of this part of the kingdom. Historia couldn't see the back of the building, but it appeared to go on for a while. A sign hung over the glass doorway, The Dragon's Den written in red over a picture of a black dragon with piercing green eyes and smoke flowing from its jaws.

"So, what do you think?" Sasha asked upon seeing Historia's eyes widen and jaw drop at the sight of the place.

"It's beautiful!" she replied. "And you guys get to come here all the time?"

"Well, you get to live in a castle, so…" Connie said, trailing off lightly. Historia gave him a look that Connie returned with a smile, his eyes gleaming in the early evening sun. "Shall we go inside then, so you can be further blown away by the quality of Gaiola's finest dining establishment?"

"Wow, nice word choice. I'm impressed," Jean said, rubbing his hand over Connie's head. The shorter boy swatted his hand away as if he were afraid Jean would mess up his nonexistent hair. Jean laughed, offering his arm to Historia. "My lady."

"Thank you, sir," Historia said, looping her arm through his and letting Jean lead her up to the glass doors. The boy pushed the door open with his free arm, a rush of cool air splashing their faces as they crossed the threshold.

"Oh my," Historia breathed, unable to take in the room fast enough. The room was full of tables, big and small, some shaped in circles and others in squares, some booths and some surrounded by chairs. A large counter spanned the length of the back wall, serving as a bar where more patrons could sit and supposedly separating the kitchen from the dining room. The floors were made of polished wood, dark and gleaming, seamless and sturdy. While most of the lighting came directly from the sun pouring in through the glass walls and windows, three lighting fixtures that looked like bubbles of light hung from the ceiling, and small candles encased in glass spheres sat at the center of each table. The whole room gave off a feeling of light, of wonder.

The girl turned wide blue eyes on Jean. "And you guys get to come here all the time?" she repeated.

Jean shrugged. "We're friends with the staff. They consider us regulars." Historia shook her head in amazement. "You know, we can try to sneak you here whenever you need a break. We are your personal guard, after all. It's our job to keep you safe. And I've heard boredom is one of the most ruthless killers out there." Historia laughed.

"Please tell that to Sir Edros," she said in reply. Jean's hazel eyes sparkled as he smiled, Connie and Sasha appearing behind them. Together, the four teens moved towards the host's podium. The blonde boy standing behind the counter didn't even wait for them to speak before grabbing four menus and showing them the way to a table in the corner of the room, at the intersection between a glass wall and the window wall.

"Thanks, Reiner," Connie said as the blonde pulled Historia's chair out for her. The girl offered the muscular blonde a nod of genuine thanks as he pushed her chair back in after she sat down.

"Anytime," he replied, repeating the same process for Sasha. "Especially when you bring such a special guest." Reiner winked at Historia, bowing his head respectfully at her before turning to leave. "Enjoy."

Historia watched Reiner as he walked away. "Who's that?" she asked after he was out of earshot.

"That's Reiner. He's our friend, don't worry," Sasha replied. "We gave them a little heads up that we might have someone special with us tonight, and to not make a big deal out of it."

"Thank you," the blonde girl sighed.

"Hey, we knew you wouldn't want to stick out tonight, not after the week you've had," Connie replied with a big smile. "So we took every precaution to make tonight as incognito as possible. And you dressed perfectly for the part, by the way."

Historia smiled, looking down at her simple, midnight blue dress. There was a break at the waist, the blue skirt flowing to the sides of a triangle of cream silk, falling loosely around her legs. It was far more comfortable and mobile than the fancy gowns and cupcake-esque hoop skirts she'd gotten used to wearing since the coronation.

"Thank you," the queen replied sweetly. "That's very kind of you." Connie shrugged, his ears turning the slightest shade of red. Sasha tugged one of the offending ears playfully, earning her a slap on the shoulder.

"Hey!" Connie whined, rubbing his ear sorely. "What was that for?"

"For being a perfect gentleman," Sasha replied with an air of finesse. "That was a tug of endearment." Connie scowled, muttering something under his breath that made Sasha laugh as a dark haired waitress approached the table.

"Oh, it's you guys again," she said, resting her weight in one hip as she crossed her arms over her chest. "But with a new tag along this time." Historia met the girl's golden eyes with a smile. She had a smattering of freckles on her tan cheeks. They suited her well, delicately smoothing the sharp angles of her facial features. "Welcome to the Dragon's Den, your highness. My name's Ymir."

"You don't have to…" Historia began, but then corrected herself, substituting her words with a simple nod. "Thank you," she said. "It's nice to meet you, Ymir." The girl smirked, not unpleasantly; as if it were something she did all the time.

"So where's my fellow freckled friend?" Ymir asked, her eyes narrowing on Jean in particular.

"Sick," the boy replied plainly. "He sends his apologies." Ymir shook her head sadly.

"Well, that's disappointing. He's my favorite," she commented. "Excepting you, of course, miss queen." Historia felt her cheeks go hot as the girl gave her a mischievous look. "Ah, don't get all nervous. I'm just messing with you. Speaking of, Reiner didn't give you any trouble did he?"

Historia shook her head. "He just winked at me," she replied plainly.

"I'll punish him later," Ymir sighed, looking over her shoulder at the boy standing behind the host's podium, waiting for the next customer to walk through the door. "He's got a thing for hitting on any pretty girl who walks through that door. We tried telling him royalty was off limits, but I guess you're just too beautiful for him to adhere to the rules." The brunette shrugged as Historia feared that her skin would combust into flames at any moment, the heat of her blush was so intense. "Anyhow, I came over to get a drink order. What'll you have?"

Historia fumbled with the menu in front of her, terribly embarrassed that she hadn't even bothered to look at it yet. Jean put a hand over hers, steadying the trembling she hadn't even been aware of.

"You should try their lemon sugar tea. It's the best," he said. Historia flashed him a grateful smile. Ymir jotted something down on her notepad. "And I'll have the same thing, please."

"Me too," Sasha added.

"Make it four," Connie piped up, raising his hand and wiggling four fingers for emphasis.

"Geez, you guys always order the same thing," Ymir commented. "I didn't even wait for the rest of you to say it. You always go group mentality. Always."

"Hey, at least we're consistent," Connie argued. Ymir shrugged.

"Guess so," she said, moving away to put in the order.

"Is she…?"

"Yes, she's always like that," Jean replied with a nod of his head. "You get used to it."

"Yeah, spend enough time with Jean, and you'll get used to the sarcasm. But his flirting techniques are nothing compared to Ymir's," Connie said in response, settling back in his chair with a mischievous grin. Jean scowled.

"At least I can actually flirt with the people I like," the boy with the two-toned hair said with a challenging raise of his eyebrows. Connie's lips pressed together tightly as his light brown eyes grew wide with contained astonishment. His eyes flicked to Sasha before blazing back at Jean. Historia noted the exchange with an amused expression. Before anyone else could comment, Ymir returned to the table, balancing a tray holding four steaming mugs on one hand.

"And here we are, four lemon sugar teas made special by yours truly," the brunette said, carefully placing the mugs on the table and not losing contact with them until they had reached their target. She made a point of sliding one to Historia first, and not leaving until the girl took her first sip.

Historia peered down at the contents of her mug. The clear liquid sure didn't look like regular tea. She still carefully brought the cup to her lips and took a tentatively sip. The taste that met her tongue was even more unexpected than the appearance of the liquid. Despite the steam rising steadily from the mug, the tea was refreshingly cool, tasting more prominently of sugar than either tea or lemon. But those two flavors came rushing back as an aftertaste, almost startling and oddly satisfying.

"Well?" Ymir asked as the queen set her mug back on the table. She hadn't realized that all eyes had been on her, observing her first impression.

Historia smiled. "It's delicious," she answered. "How do you make it taste like that?"

"Uh-uh, ancient Dragon's Den secret," Ymir shook her finger reproachfully. "You just have to enjoy the tea and revel in the mystery behind its unbeatable deliciousness."

A loud bang sounded from the kitchen. All eyes flew to the wall behind the counter, more specifically the door that led back to the kitchen that, unfortunately, remained closed.

"Well, that didn't sound good," Ymir commented, turning back to the table with a trace of an apologetic smile. "I'm going to go check on that. I'll get your order when I get back, okay?"

"You'll leave even if we say… okay," Connie began, giving up as Ymir rushed away, disappeared through the kitchen door, followed by a shorter girl with blonde hair and a much taller brunette.

"What do you think happened?" Sasha asked around a sip of her own tea. Jean shrugged.

"Couldn't tell ya, but I'd be satisfied with saying Jaeger screwed up and broke something," he answered with a small shrug of his shoulders.

"Who?" Historia questioned.

"Eren Jaeger," Sasha clarified. "He's one of our friends who works here. Jean doesn't like him very much."

"I was gonna say, friend is a strong word, Sasha," Jean said, fidgeting in his seat, looking around at the other patrons in the dining room. Historia's light eyebrows arched up as she took another sip of her drink, the cool liquid almost intoxicatingly sweet.

"Why don't you like him?" the blonde girl asked innocently. Jean sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

"Cause he's jealous of him," Connie said quickly, before Jean had the chance to say anything.

"I am not!" he fired back.

Connie snorted. "And I have the most beautiful, flowing hair in the knights' guild," he replied, dramatically miming tossing his hair over his shoulder. Jean scowled.

"I am not jealous of Jaeger. I'm just displeased with the fact that Mikasa can find a guy like that attractive," he clarified, crossing his arms over his chest. "Eren Jaeger is an irrational, overly idealistic, walking-talking time bomb of rage and destruction. He blows up over anything and everything, and is way too overly sensitive. He needs to grow up." He slumped back in his chair, letting his argument rest.

Sasha and Connie exchanged a glance as Historia continued to sip away at her tea, her eyes shifting between the three of them.

"I still think you're jealous," Connie stated. "Eren hasn't really freaked out over anything in like years. That that's your only excuse is pretty much admitted you're jealous." Jean's retort was interrupted as Ymir came back to the table, notepad in hand.

"Hey, so there's a bit of a problem in the kitchen, so most of our menu is unavailable right now," the girl began. "But most of our bakery items are still available, as long as they've been premade, which pretty much all of them are because Bertholdt wakes up so damn early and has nothing better to do with his boring life, so you pretty much have your pick when it comes to that. I hope you weren't planning on actually getting meals." Historia noticed that her hands were constantly in motion while she talked. Had she done that before? The girl couldn't remember.

"What happened?" Sasha asked curiously.

Ymir waved her hand. "Nothing too serious. Just a minor scale explosion in one of the ovens. Everything is fine, no one got hurt, the oven will be fixed by tomorrow. It's just a chaotic mess back there right now so cooking has been brought to a standstill," she answered. "So, do you need another minute, or can I still get your order in now? Cause they do need me back in the kitchen soon."

"Oh, uh," Sasha began, meeting everyone at the table's eyes. "Do you still have apple pie?"

Ymir nodded. Sasha's eyes shifted to Historia. "Do you like apple pie?" The blonde nodded too.

Sasha smiled. "Then we'll be consistent and each order a slice of pie please!"

"Called it," Ymir muttered, not even bothering to write the order down before shoving her notepad in the pocket of her apron. "That'll be right up. And Jean, stop pouting. It makes you look like an eight-year-old."

Connie and Sasha laughed as the brunette waltzed away with a smirk as the boy with the two-toned hair glared after her. Historia giggled herself, hiding her smile behind her mug. Jean still looked at her, his eyes accusatory.

"You too?" he asked. "Geez, where's Marco when you need him?"

"Apparently sick," Connie replied. "Which, I don't know about you, but I don't know if I buy that. He was fine Monday, and has been acting weird since the day we got promoted. I… I don't know. I mean, I haven't actually seen him since then, but you know."

Jean shrugged. "Well, I mean I haven't seen him since yesterday either; we were divided by skill sets, but you never know. A bug could hit you really hard out of nowhere and take you down. Never know." He shrugged again, then swirled the tea around in his cup, careful not to let any spill over.

"Hey, he'll be fine," Sasha said, reaching across the table and catching Jean's wrist in her hand. "Don't jump to any conclusion, if that's what you're doing. If he's hurt and lying to us, I'm sure he's okay because he had the ability to lie about it. And if he's actually sick, then he'll still be okay because Marco's a healthy guy. So stop assuming the worst."

"I wasn't…"

"And stop pouting cause Ymir's right. You look like a child," Sasha added.

"I hate you," Jean replied simply as Ymir hurried to the table with another tray, this time supporting four plates of pie.

"Order up," the girl said in a singsong voice, sliding each plate along the table to its occupant. She then slapped a piece of paper on the table. "There's your check, take it to the front when you're ready cause I'm going to be a little busy in the back for a while. If you need anything, flag another server and they'll be happy to assist you. It was a pleasure serving you all this evening, and your highness…" The queen gave a small start, staring as the freckled brunette smiled at her, a mischievous glint flashing through her golden eyes. "Don't be a stranger," Ymir finished, winking at her before rushing back to the kitchen for the last time. Historia watched her disappear behind the door.

"Damn, she's into you," Connie commented.

"No she's not," Historia replied, shaking her head furiously as she picked up her fork. "She's just… nervous cause I'm the queen." The bald boy laughed.

"Is that going to be your excuse for everything now?" he questioned, eyebrows raised. "You can break Sir Smith and Sir Edros' rules, you can choose how people address you, you can make people nervous or awkward, just because you're the queen?"

Historia pondered his question for a moment. "Yes," she answered with a nod, taking a bite of her pie to finish the statement. The sweet taste of warm apple and cinnamon exploded in her mouth. She sighed happily.

"How's it taste?" Sasha asked, leaning against the table with her chin resting on her hand.

"You guys get to come here all the time?" Historia asked again, aware of the slight whine in her voice. "You lucky kids."

"Well, we can't all be the queen, you know," Jean said jokingly, the playful spark back in his eyes. Historia shook her head as the boy nudged her shoulder lightly, scooping up another forkful of the heavenly pastry and smiling at the taste of her brief night of fun.

To keep the conversation going, the blonde asked: "So, I've met Ymir and Reiner, and you've told me about Eren Jaeger. How many other friends do you know that work here?"

 **I hope you've enjoyed this chapter! As always, reviews of any kind would be greatly appreciated!**

 **Here are the ships I have planned to appear in this story:**

 **Yumikuri, Beruani, Springles, and Eremika for sure. There might be some Jeanmarco, and some Levihan hints along the way. I was asked for Petra ships, and if Petra makes an appearance and gets shipped, it will probably be with Levi. Hope that help!**

 **Thank you for reading!**


	7. Hope

**Hello again, dear readers! I'm sorry I don't have much more to say here. Please enjoy the chapter!**

~~~~0000~~~~

 _Saturday, August 8, 1513_

 _"Lord Carolina, there is a visitor calling for you," an attendant said, ducking his head into the parlor where the noble family was gathered, in the middle of listening to one of Michael's stories of his days in the knights' guild. Mina and Historia's eyes moved to the man at the door. Lady Carolina's attention was drawn to her husband._

 _"Did they give a name?" the dark haired man asked in reply, looking up from his paperwork._

 _"A Lord Cresca, sir," the attendant answered. Michael Carolina stood from his seat with an apologetic smile at his wife and girls._

 _"I'm afraid we'll have to finish this story later," he said before following the attendant into the hallway. The door closed behind them. Mina and Historia exchanged a glance before turning to Lady Carolina. The woman shrugged her shoulders._

 _"Royal business never quite ends," she said simply. "I think it's safe to say your father's time in the knights' guild was much more exciting than his life in the royal court."_

 _"Do you know the man he's going to talk to?" Mina asked curiously._

 _"Not very well," Lady Carolina said. "But I do know he's one of the king's men."_

 _"The king's men?" Historia asked. "Do you think…?"_

 _A shadow had clouded over the woman's face. Historia didn't even need to hear her answer to know what it would be. The blonde girl bit her lip. Mina turned to her with confused eyes. The dark haired girl covered Historia's hand with her own, suddenly understanding._

 _"Miss Historia?" All eyes flew back to the door where the attendant had appeared once again. "The visitor has requested your presence." Historia stood mechanically and followed the man to the door. She looked back at Mina and Lady Carolina. Both flashed her encouraging smiles._

 _The door closed behind her with a soft click. "Right this way," the attendant said, walking off down the main hallway towards a smaller meeting parlor in the front of the house. Historia followed as if she were in a trance. She'd waited four years for this moment; she knew exactly what they were going to tell her when she walked through that door._ Historia, we're sorry, but your uncle is dead. You have no family left. We're very sorry.

 _The attendant stopped by the door to the parlor, nodding for Historia to enter. "Thank you," the girl said with a bow of her head before taking hold of the doorknob and pushing her was into the room. The first thing she saw was the familiar sight of the bookshelf-covered walls. Thick volumes of histories, biographies, and fantasy tales lined the shelves. Historia let her eyes drink in the familiarity of it for only a sweet second before turning her attention to the men in the chairs._

 _Lord Carolina was on the left, sitting in a red armchair. He smiled when he saw her. The other man was perched on the edge of the armchair on the right and stood immediately when Historia entered. He was around middle age, with dark auburn hair and a pair of glasses sitting squarely on his nose. He was dressed in the formal attire of a royal noble, with a dark blue waistcoat, pressed cream shirt, and shiny black boots._

 _"Princess," the man greeted, bowing his head respectfully. Historia blinked. She'd never been addressed like this before. It was… uncomfortable. After a moment's hesitation, she curtsied._

 _"Sir," she replied, meeting his dark eyes hesitantly._

 _"My name is Lord Cresca and I serve as one of the executive ministers to the monarch of the kingdom," the man introduced himself simply. "I have come here today with grave news and an important royal decree, both of which concern you, Historia. Would you care to sit down?" Historia nodded, taking a seat precariously in a chair next to Lord Carolina's. Lord Cresca returned to his own seat, readjusting his glasses before beginning._

 _"I'm not going beat around the bush here, Historia, the kingdom is in a state of trouble," the nobleman began, his deep brown orbs staring her straight in the eye. "On the night of August sixth, at exactly ten to the hour of eleven, King Fritz passed away. He died as if he were falling asleep one final time, painlessly and happily as one could enter into the next world. While we are sad about his passing, we know he died well, and cannot forget about the kingdom in a time such as this._

 _"Historia, not many people outside of the castle know this, but there is trouble brewing outside and within Gaiola. There have been whispers of rebel groups, of planned revolts and riots and violence. Things that we will be unable to stop if we do not have a monarch sitting on the throne. That is why I have come to you today."_

 _Lord Cresca paused, pulling out a scroll of parchment rolled and wrapped with a violet ribbon. "King Fritz did not leave any direct heirs to the throne. His wife is deceased, as are his children. His brother and sister-in-law are no longer with us either. But you are the daughter of King Fritz's late brother, and that makes you the last surviving blood relation to the king. Therefore, the throne is rightfully yours. I've come here today as a messenger from the royal court extending you the throne. You may refuse, if you so desire. In that event, our Prime Minister, Sir Edros, will succeed the king. However, Historia, as the true heir, you have the right to decide whether you would like to accept the crown."_

 _The blonde girl stared at the scroll in the man's hands, now offered to her. Historia took the parchment and carefully undid the ribbon. Written on the scroll in delicate black ink were words similar to those Lord Cresca had just dictated, only more formal._ Queen, _she thought,_ they want me to be queen. I thought they just wanted to tell me he was dead… Queen…

 _"Historia?" Lord Carolina asked. The blonde girl met his dark eyes. "This is your choice. You don't have to accept if you don't feel comfortable."_

 _Historia bit her lip as she reread the parchment two more times. It was asking a lot. Especially of a sixteen-year-old who'd only recently learned that she was a princess. But she_ was _a princess, and that meant that it was her duty to uphold her family's name. And the kingdom needed help, according to Lord Cresca. She couldn't let Gaiola fall to chaos. That would be disrespectful to her home._

 _"I'll do it," Historia said. She rerolled the scroll before meeting Lord Cresca's eyes with a confident smile. "I will accept the throne and take my uncle's place as queen." The nobleman smiled._

 _"Thank you, my lady," Lord Cresca beamed. "You've just done a great service to your kingdom. Thank you!"_

~~~~0000~~~~

Thursday, August 26, 1513

"Yesterday evening, at 7 pm on the hour, the commerce district was attacked by the five sorcerers calling themselves the Furies," Mike Zacharius, member of the elite knights division, proclaimed to the assemblage of the royal cabinet. Historia's fingers tightened around the arms of her chair. "Eye witnesses reported that at the stroke of the hour, there was a flash of white light. Afterwards, vines began to break through the pavement, growing so large as to cover the main square of the district. All of it had disappeared by ten past the hour, the sorcerers as well."

"Vines?" Lord Cresca asked. "What do you mean by vines?"

"I believe it was giant plants, sir," Mike answered.

"And they just grew out of the pavement?" the minister asked, bewildered.

"Sorcerers are capable of many things we'd consider to be impossible," the knight replied plainly. "And since there was no damage left behind, it can be presumed that the whole incident was a matter of illusion."

"Illusion or not, we cannot stand for this tomfoolery any longer!" Lord Bartton exclaimed, pounding a fist against the table.

Someone cleared their throat and Historia turned her attention to Sir Edros, who nodded at her. The girl blinked. Then realization hit her like a cannonball. _Oh right_ , she thought, _I'm supposed to say something._

"Sir Zacharius, has Sir Smith said anything about what we should do next?" the queen asked, meeting the tall man's eyes. Mike smiled at her.

"Why yes, your highness, he has informed me that the decision is yours," he answered in a calm voice. Historia's heart dropped to her shoes. "Although, he does suggest a follow up investigation executed by the elite guards. But beyond that, Sir Smith believes that this would be a perfect chance for you to practice your executive authority. How would you like to proceed, your highness?"

"Uh…" Historia stuttered mechanically, staring Mike straight in the eye. The man simply nodded, his smile never faltering. His faith in her, real or not, astounded Historia. It also pushed her to do something. "I agree with Sir Smith that a follow up investigation of the commerce district incident should begin as soon as possible. I would also like it if you could ask your master if he would be willing to dispatch an instigative team for the task of finding the Furies. The team could be the same as the team working on the commerce district, but I would personally feel better the sooner we can track down these sorcerers and get them under control."

Mike nodded affirmingly. "As you wish, your highness. I will communicate your desires to Sir Smith tonight. I do believe, though, that he is already in the process of putting together a team to search for the Furies."

"That's good to hear," Historia replied. "The sooner we find them, the sooner we've stopped them harassing the kingdom and the safer the people will be."

"And you, your highness," Sir Edros spoke up with a kind smile that held traces of an anxious worry typical of a parent to their child or a child to a wounded dog. "We must assume that you are one of their targets if their intention is to overthrow the kingdom. Until they have been caught, you are in just as much danger as your subjects." Historia watched his eyes with what she hoped was an expression void of emotion, save confidence and the willingness to fight till the end. Because if her eyes instead portrayed the mess of anxious, scared silly, 'why is this happening to me? I'm only sixteen!' emotions roiling around inside her brain, she sure as heck wouldn't listen to another word that came out of her mouth. And it would be bad if Sir Edros didn't trust her resolve; he was her Prime Minister, her right hand man. He had to know that while she needed help now, she'd be able to rule by herself one day. Teenage emotions couldn't get in the way of that.

"You don't think they're planning to interrupt the ball tomorrow, do you?" Lord Bartton asked. A silent shock of fear ran through the room like a bolt of lightning.

"No, no they wouldn't act so soon," Lord Cresca said, shaking his head so vigorously his glasses almost fell from his nose. "They won't, that's much too soon! It's preposterous! Right?" Historia met Sir Edros' eyes. The man stood from his seat.

"Ministers, please, this is no time to be hysterical," the Prime Minister said, voice level.

"I'm not hysterical!" Lord Cresca exclaimed.

"I'm not saying you were, but we must think with a clear mind if we intend to get anything about those damn Furies figured out," Sir Edros replied, running a hand through his dark hair. "As to the ball on Friday, the possibility has crossed my mind. However, it does seem rather close to the coronation for them to strike again…"

"They attacked the commerce district yesterday, not even a week after the first attack," Lord Bartton countered. "I wouldn't put it past them to strike again tomorrow."

"I'm not convinced," Sir Edros argued. "But their presence is still too new for us to identify any sort of pattern in their appearances or behavior. So who knows what may happen tomorrow night." The Prime Minister held his fist to his lips as his brain worked away. Historia's eyes shifted from him to the other men seated around the table. Lord Cresca's fingers were drumming against the table. Lord Bartton's lips were turned down into a frown, an expression she'd never seen from the man in the short time she'd known him. Mike Zacharius was observing the men as well, gauging their reactions for something. Lord Tessman looked as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words.

"Sir Zacharias," Lord Tessman finally asked, voice even and steady. "Did any witness report the Furies saying anything during the attack on the commerce district?" Mike nodded.

"One witness is on record saying that the Fury in blue said something about needing fear to rule a kingdom. No one could recall the direct quote," he answered. Lord Tessman nodded thoughtfully, reclining back slightly in his chair. "Does that mean anything to you?"

"Not yet," the minister replied, voice distant as if he were deep in thought. His brown eyes stared off at the ceiling. Historia could practically see the gears shifting in his brain.

"What are you thinking about, Tessman?" Lord Bartton asked, intrigued by the usually quiet man's sudden involvement.

"Nothing in particular," the nobleman replied. "I'm just… trying to understand. I know nothing about magic. But I do know about words, language, symbolism and double meanings and all of that. I'm just trying to understand the enemy from an angle I can comprehend. I don't know if it'll work but it's all I've got. Ignore me until I can prove otherwise."

"Ignore you? But that sounds brilliant," Historia said, then clamped a hand over her mouth. All eyes turned to her.

"Your highness, you don't have to apologize or chastise yourself for speaking," Lord Tessman replied with the hints of a smile. "You are the queen. You may speak whenever you like."

Historia nodded. "Thank you, sir," she said. She paused before continuing, "But I really do think you're on to something. We don't know a lot about magic. And while it's great that you're finding alternatives, maybe we should look deeper into understanding magic-kind instead of charging in blindly."

"How to you figure?" Lord Tessman inquired, one dark eyebrow curving upwards as his brown eyes fixed upon Historia's.

"Well," the queen began, her thoughts funneling into words as she spoke. "I think it would be beneficial if we learned more about magic-kind. All of us, the nobles, the knights' guild, the citizens. The more we know, the more we can do something that will benefit the most people. Instead of siting here, worrying about what those sorcerers are going to do, we could make more educated guesses about what they will do because we know what they're capable of."

"Knowledge is power," Mike commented, nodding his head. "I can appeal to Sir Smith to provide a course for the knights' guild on the main species of magic-kind living in Gaiola. Would that follow your vision, your highness?"

"Yes, that would be perfect. Thank you," Historia replied. "What do you all think?" Her eyes searched the faces around the table.

"I see profit," Lord Bartton said with a shrug of his shoulders. "I say we do it."

"I believe that would be a very smart move on our part," Sir Edros said in response. "Well done, your highness." Historia smiled.

"But what will we do about the ball?" Lord Cresca asked.

"We will deal with that if it happens. For now, all we can do is increase security and pray for the best," Sir Edros answered with an air of finality. "Isn't that right, your highness?"

Historia nodded. "Increase security and pray for the best."

 **Yes, your highness, pray for the best. Never know what's coming for you at that ball. ;)**

 **Thank you so much for reading! Please review/favorite/follow if you feel so inclined. And stay tuned!**


	8. Playing Pretend

**Welcome back, dear readers! I would like to welcome you to the start of the royal ball chapters, with this one being a sort of prelude. I sincerely hope you enjoy, and that this little taste of coming attractions will keep you as spellbound as one of the Furies' illusions for what is to come. :)**

 **As always, enjoy!**

~~~~0000~~~~

 _Thursday, August 27, 1513_

 _"You know what would make this easier? Magic," Eren commented as he placed a stack of plates next to the sink to be washed. He dunked the first three in the water-filled basin._

 _"You know what teaches you responsibility? Cleaning with your hands like a normal human," Levi replied plainly, leaning against the wall next to the door as he made his rounds inspecting the kitchen crew. Eren had begun to refer to it as the hourly superiority reminders._

 _"I think you're still punishing us for breaking that shield two years ago," Eren muttered just loud enough to be heard._

 _"Maybe if you hadn't been touching it in the first place, I wouldn't doubt your abilities to act responsibly," the man replied plainly. "Keep working. Bertholdt, watch him," he instructed the taller brunette who'd been doing his best to go unnoticed slicing vegetables across the room._

 _"I will," Bertholdt replied. Eren, baffled slightly, looked back and forth between the two as if they were conspiring against him._

 _"Do you trust him more than you trust me?" Eren asked challengingly._

 _"No," Levi said plainly. "I don't trust any of you farther than I can throw you. But I know for a fact he wasn't the one who instigated the shield incident so he's the closest to redemption." Eren was too distracted to see the tiny grin of triumph cross Bertholdt's face._

 _"What?!" Eren exclaimed as Levi turned and disappeared into the restaurant. "It wasn't my idea! Ymir told us to do it!"_

 _"Sure," Levi's voice deadpanned from outside the door. Eren groaned, staring dejectedly down at the plates in the sink before turning suffering green eyes on his companion. "Why does he do this to me?"_

 _"Cause you ask for it," Bertholdt answered plainly. One of Eren's eyebrows arched up as the tall brunette gave him an apologetic smile._

 _"Hey boys," Hanji chirped cheerfully as she swung into the kitchen. "How's it going?"_

 _"Hanji, why does Levi always pick on me?" Eren asked._

 _"Cause you ask for it," the woman answered with a shrug. Eren shot a look at Bertholdt who simply shrugged. "And he thinks you can take it. Also, Bertholdt, I want you to come work the floor for a little while. You've been in the kitchen all week."_

 _"That's okay, really," the brunette replied. "I'm fine back here…"_

 _"Bertholdt. Go work the floor," Hanji instructed, pointing backwards towards the restaurant with her thumb._

 _"Okay," the boy consented, setting his knife down and disappearing through the door. Hanji shook her head._

 _"I don't get why he hates being on the floor," she commented, mostly to herself. "Keep up the good work, Eren!" As soon as the woman had disappeared through the door once more, another head popped in._

 _"Eren! You've got company!" Ymir said, swinging into the doorway to the kitchen. "Mikasa and the blonde kid."_

 _"Ymir, you know his name," Eren replied, moving to stir a pot of pasta on the stovetop. The girl shrugged._

 _"Okay. They're coming in," Ymir said in response before disappearing again._

 _The next moment, Mikasa and Armin were standing in the doorway, looking apprehensive to cross the threshold._

 _"Hi guys!" he greeted cheerfully. "How's it going?"_

 _"Hi Eren!" Armin replied enthusiastically, a large grin plastered on his face. "We uh," he paused, glancing up at Mikasa before looking back at Eren. "We wanted to ask you something real fast."_

 _Eren's lips twitched to the side, amused with Armin's jittery excitement. "And what might that be?" he asked, meeting Mikasa's eye._

 _"Well, we were wondering if you would like to come to the ball with us tomorrow night," the girl answered, brushing a piece of her black hair behind her ear. "You've been working so hard lately, we thought you might need a night of fun. And Sir Smith said we were allowed to bring someone."_

 _Armin looked at him with hopeful blue eyes that Eren found slightly puzzling. "Thanks, guys. That's… that's really sweet of you to offer," he answered, feeling a slight blush creeping to his cheeks. "But I'd have to ask Levi. I'm supposed to work tomorrow night."_

 _"Oh," Mikasa said, her own cheeks flaring a light pink. "T-that's okay then. We couldn't take you away from work…"_

 _"What? Of course we can!" Armin argued enthusiastically. "Eren, you work all the time! Can't Mr. Levi give you one night off?" The desperation in the blonde's blue eyes were enough to crack Eren's will completely. With a sigh, the brunette pushed off towards the door._

 _"Watch that pot for me. I don't want you to be there in case he gets mad," he said as he disappeared to find Levi. Armin watched until the brunette had completely disappeared before turning back to Mikasa with the biggest smile on his face._

 _"He's gonna be so excited!" the boy exclaimed, clenching his hands in fists to try to contain his own excitement. Mikasa smiled, looking out at the crowded restaurant. "It was a good idea to get Levi's permission before asking him."_

 _"I agree. I don't think those two get along very well," Mikasa replied. "But at least Eren gets to come with us."_

 _"And see how beautiful you are in a ball gown," Armin added with a sly lilt to his voice, eyebrows slightly raised. Mikasa eyed him warily._

 _"Armin…"_

 _"I won't do anything, I swear! I won't tell him either!" the blonde laughed hurriedly. "Gosh, you'd think he'd know himself by now."_

 _The girl blushed, looking down at the floor. "Please don't tell him," she said quietly. "Let him get there on his own."_

 _Armin smiled. "Whatever you say."_

~~~~0000~~~~

Friday, August 28, 1513

The dining room was quiet, empty save for the blond leaning against the counter. Chin propped up in her hand, Annie surveyed the lonely room, listening to the rain beating against the glass walls. The soft light from the candles on the table cast gentle shadows around the room; she hadn't bothered to turn on the overhead lights. The scene was peaceful, quiet, serene. Nothing like what Ymir, Reiner, and Eren must've been experiencing at the ball.

Not that Annie was one for big parties. But anything would've been better than babysitting an empty restaurant. Everyone was at the ball. No one was going to stop in for a bite when there was a real event taking place at the castle no less.

The blonde sighed, pushing off the counter and moving towards the old radio. She twisted a few knobs, pushed some buttons, then tapped it with a charm to make it work. An upbeat waltz began to play, filling the empty room with sound.

Smiling at her little trick, Annie grabbed the broom that sat against the counter, right where Levi had left it with the instruction 'you know, in case you're bored.' _Well, guess we've reached that point._

Broom in hand, the blonde swung around the corner of the counter onto the main floor. She'd never really minded sweeping all that much. It was a task that took the whole body, arms to steer the broom and legs to navigate its path and eyes to assess the success of the cleaning tool. It was a simple project, using a broom, but a project nonetheless. And if there was one thing Annie enjoyed, it was projects.

As she swept the dining room floor, which was clean as usual, Annie hardly noticed as her feet began to move in time with the music. The tunes blaring from the little radio continued to change from slow, smooth ballads to high tempo waltzes. Annie kept time with all of them, swinging her broom along as if it were a dance partner. _Actually…_ Annie thought. She cast her eyes around the room, already knowing they'd find no one. Still, it was worth it to double check no one would catch you dancing with a broom.

Certain she was alone, Annie stood the broom up straight in front of her. She had both hands wrapped gently around the handle before she caught on with the melody and began to turn around the floor with her inanimate partner. As lightning flashed above her head, Annie and her broomstick twirled amidst the tables and chairs of the dining room, careful not to knock anything over.

She felt like a kid again, imagining the broom was a handsome prince set to whisk her away to an enchanted castle in the woods. The pure joy of it made her laugh, the sound echoing around her like a harmony to the radio's tune. It took her three revolutions to catch sight of the shadow lingering in the kitchen's doorframe.

Annie froze, one foot tripping over the other when her eyes registered the person watching her. The broom dropped from her hands and she fumbled to pick it up, clutching the handle for dear life as she met the amused olive green eyes of Bertholdt Hoover. The blonde felt her cheeks flare red with embarrassment as their eyes met. A smile broke on her lips when she saw the blush rising on her watcher's face. Of course, he'd get caught watching a girl dance with a broom and be ten times as embarrassed as she was.

Bertholdt blinked as a hand was presented to him from a beaming Annie.

"Dance with me?" she asked, the high from her moment of joy still coursing through her veins. The smile on her face was different than usual, something about it encouraging the boy to smile back, something he was often too shy to do. Annie felt her heart soar, something she was often too scared to feel.

"Would your partner mind if I stepped in?" Bertholdt asked in what he hoped was a charmingly witty response as he took a nervous step towards her, arms laced at the wrists behind his back.

Annie looked at her broom thoughtfully before setting it aside against a table. "I think he'll be just fine," she replied. Bertholdt smiled, furtively wiping his palms against his jeans as the blonde flicked her wrist and adjusted the volume on the radio.

Annie turned back to her partner as he careened around the tables to meet her and laughed as he bowed to her. Bertholdt offered her a nervous smile as his cheeks flared a deeper shade of red.

"What? Isn't this how you properly start a dance?" he asked.

The girl shook her head with a smile before sinking into a graceful curtsy, holding an imaginary skirt between her fingers. Bertholdt's smile widened as both teens straightened and their height difference became glaringly obvious. It didn't stop the boy from offering his hand to the girl and gently wrapping his arm around her waist when her palm met his. Annie's hand rested gently against his shoulder, reaching slightly to get there. It was more comfortable than they'd assumed. The raindrops drumming against the windows kept beat with the radio's swinging tune.

Almost automatically, Annie and Bertholdt fell into a smooth sort of waltz. One, two, three. One, two, three. Back, left, forward, right, turning softly and slowly in circles around the kitchen floor. It almost felt as if they were at the ball with the others, surrounded by strangers yet not noticing their presence at all.

As Bertholdt spun Annie around, twirling her arm over her head, he cast an illusion on her so that when she stopped spinning, she was no longer a teenage waitress but the image of a fairytale princess, the skirt of an elegant ball gown swishing behind her. Annie gasped, her hands touching the shimmering fabric of the pale blue skirt before moving to the soft curls of her hair. She lifted curious eyes to her companion, who happened to be grinning like fool.

"Why?" she asked.

"Isn't that the dress you made the other night?" Bertholdt asked in reply. "The one we didn't choose for Ymir to wear? You put so much time into it. I thought you might like to wear it." Annie laughed.

"And what gave off that impression?" she asked, her voice light and joking. Bertholdt shrugged, blushing ever so slightly.

"I could tell you weren't making it for someone else," he answered honestly. "You work differently when it's for you. You put more time in, make sure it's absolutely perfect instead of just perfect. You spent way more time on this dress than you did Ymir's, even though Ymir's looks like you worked harder. I know this dress means something to you, and I wanted you to give it the chance you both deserve."

Annie shook her head. "You really have to talk more, Bertholdt. You say words too good to be true, and you say so few, I don't know whether to believe you or not," she said before snapping her fingers before he could respond. "There, now we match," she added, admiring her own work on her partner's black suit with pale blue accents. The brunette took a moment to inspect her trick before returning his eyes to hers. A mischievous glint flashed through his green irises. "What are you gonna do?" Annie asked suspiciously.

"Dunno," Bertholdt replied, swinging Annie around in a circle. When they stopped they were in a ballroom so glorious, Annie could never hope to have dreamed up such a place. The whole room seemed to glitter, from the crystal chandeliers to the marble floor of gold and white tiles. Golden banisters flanked marble staircases of pristine white that lead to layers of balconies that overlooked the oval shaped dance floor. Large windows gave the eye passage to a world of midnight blue sky, the night embracing the world outside in the perfect contrast to the light of the ball inside. Red roses, held in vases and sconces throughout the room, provided the perfect accent of color in the sparkling gold and white room.

Annie gaped at the sight, a single laugh lighting up her face. She shook her head, looking up into Bertholdt's eyes. She'd always wondered what went on in his head, what his dreams looked like. This illusion only made her desire burn harder.

"I don't believe you," she said a little breathlessly.

"Then I guess I'll have to change your mind," the brunette replied simply. Without speaking again, the couple resumed their dance. As they fell into step with one another and the music of the orchestra that now stood to the right side of the ballroom, couples dressed in white, red, and gold began to materialize around them. The ghosts of good times spun and twirled along with Annie and Bertholdt, their presence both comforting and uplifting. Dancing by yourself was nothing compared to dancing with others.

Annie couldn't seem to wipe the smile off her face as Bertholdt lead her around the sparkling dance floor. He'd been right, of course, that the dress had been made for her. He couldn't have known, though, how badly Annie had wanted to go to the ball. Just to see it. To dress up like a princess and be a part of a beautiful painting of lived life, even for just one night.

Even though her dream hadn't played out as planned, she was still grateful that it was happening at least a little bit. She'd have Bertholdt to thank for that, which wasn't too bad of a situation as he wouldn't hold it over her head. For the time being, Annie cast aside all thoughts of what would happen later and let her mind melt into this moment of blissful fantasy. And when he wasn't spinning her around, she couldn't seem to take her eyes off Bertholdt's, height difference forgotten.

Not even ten minutes into their dance, Levi pushed through the kitchen door, grabbing an extra set of keys to the back house from the drawer beneath the counter. He paused as he saw his two apprentices, dancing in circles around the dining room floor, carefully avoiding the tables and smiling like two love-struck children. Annie even had her hand held as if she were holding up a skirt, like the two of them were lost in some make believe world only they could see. They were so in sync with each other and the music that Levi was genuinely caught off guard in the best of ways.

It was impossible for him not to crack a smile.

 **Thank you for reading! As always, your comments are much appreciated, so feel free to hit that button below and tell me what you think!**

 **See you next time at the ball!**


	9. Cinderella

**Hello, hello dear readers! Here we go with part two of the royal ball arc! There is no flashback for this chapter as the main story got a little lengthy, and let's be honest, I don't think there's a piece of backstory that could actually influence this chapter. Don't get me wrong there's plenty of backstory to tell, but royal balls are more fun.**

 **It is my sincerest hope that you will enjoy!**

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Friday, August 28, 1513

The very air of the room seemed to glow with the electric energy of a royal ball. The sparkling light of the crystal chandelier grew brighter and brighter as the midnight blue of the evening deepened outside the massive windows, illuminated occasionally by flashes of white hot lightening. Tables had been set to the left of the glamorous doorway, adorned with pristine white tablecloths and golden candles encased in spheres of glass. A dance floor sat to the right, floor polished so thoroughly that the marble could have been a well-maintained mirror. Couples clad in the finest of eveningwear danced and chatted and laughed their cares away through the room. Despite the storm raging outside, it appeared that the entire kingdom had still made it out for the event. And the rain certainly hadn't put a damper on the excitement or the enchantment of the ball either.

"Wow," Marco sighed, watching the glimmering spectacle from behind a curtain of gold colored velvet.

"Marco. Seriously. We get it. That's the tenth time you've made a comment about the party in five minutes," Connie said, exasperation thick in his voice as he tapped his foot impatiently against the floor.

"Oh, he's just excited," Sasha chastised him, hitting his shoulder lightly, careful not to disturb the wrinkle-free state of his black suit jacket.

"Tch," Jean clicked his tongue. "Aren't we all? Jaeger's got a clear shot at Mikasa right now. How am I supposed to win her over if she can't even see how charming I look in this suit?"

"You'll get your turn, be patient," Marco replied, the light creeping in from behind the curtain illuminating the freckles dusting his face, making his grin look almost childlike. "Besides, we're working right now." The brunette turned from the curtain to smile at Historia.

The queen smiled back. "And rest assured, if I had anything to say about it, we'd be out there right now. I'm just as antsy as you guys," she said. Her hands rose to adjust her hair, but she caught herself before her fingers made contact. Hitch had been adamant that the queen's hair must not be touched to avoid it falling and losing it's 'royal touch'. Historia had yet to figure out how a 'royal touch' could be lost when one was wearing a tiara, but figure that was a matter for another time. She also wasn't quite sure how it could fall considering it was only pulled up halfway, two braids framing the sides of her head and a waterfall of curls falling around her shoulders beneath them, and of course the tiara on top.

"But what's a royal ball without a royal entrance, am I right?" Connie commented, peeking out of the curtain like Marco had. "And this is you're first ball on the throne. It's like a show off party. 'Look! We got a new queen! Look at how cute she is! Bask in her glory!'"

Historia laughed. "I don't think it's exactly like that…"

"Still. It's your first official party as queen," Jean said, settling his arms across his chest. "How does it feel?"

"Magnificent!" the blonde girl answered happily. "I'll take this to meetings any day!"

Marco laughed. "What? You mean to tell us that sitting in a stuffy room all day with an assembly of nobles is _less_ fun than dancing the night away? Historia, I'm surprised at you!" The playful sarcasm in his voice earned an even brighter smile from the young monarch.

Historia shrugged. "Maybe it's because you can't do this at meetings." The blonde girl spun around three times, the skirts of her scarlet gown billowing out around her ankles like an umbrella, swooping gracefully even after she'd stopped spinning.

"Isn't that the best part of wearing these dresses?" Sasha exclaimed, mimicking Historia's twirling, her own violet skirts twirling around her ankles.

"Aw, no fair," Connie exclaimed. He spun on his heel. Only the very ends of his suit vest flared an inch away from his body. The boy frowned. "Suits can't do anything that cool."

"What do you mean? Suits can do plenty of cool things," Sasha said, gently stroking Connie's shaved head. "For one, this suit managed to make you look handsome. That's a feat." Connie shrugged away from Sasha's hand as the others laughed.

"Yeah, and you've done a spectacular job coordinating colors with Sasha," Jean commented slyly. Sasha blushed, looking off at the floor as Connie glared daggers at Jean, his own face turning the color of a tomato. The sandy haired boy offered him a devious grin. The ends of the gold curtain parted slightly, revealing Sir Edros. His eyes searched the faces behind the curtain until they landed on Historia with a gentle smile.

"It's show time, your majesty," the man said. Historia nodded, moving towards the Prime Minister and carefully looping her arm around his proffered elbow. She turned and gave her guards another smile before Sir Edros pulled her out from behind the curtain into the sparkling splendor of the ballroom. From the small, elevated stage they stood on, Historia could see the entirety of the room, from the glittering decorations to the colorful gowns the ladies wore. It was breathtaking.

Sir Edros stepped to the front of the stage, pulling Historia along with him. "Good evening, people of Gaiola," the man began, his voice booming around the ballroom and causing an excited silence to ripple through the sea of guests until everyone was quiet with anticipation. The Prime Minister, dressed black suit with accents of white and gold to match the décor, fixed a winning smile on the crowd as he continued: "We are so pleased to have you with us tonight to join in the celebration of the coronation of our new queen!" A round of applause thundered through the room. Historia felt a wave of butterflies flutter through her stomach as she smiled out at her people.

"I promise I'll keep this speech short to avoid any unwanted interruptions," Sir Edros said jokingly. A few chuckles sounded in reply. "As you may know, our newly ascended queen is many years younger than our dear, deceased King Fritz. At the lovely age of sixteen, Historia is the youngest monarch to claim our throne." The Prime Minister glanced sideways at Historia as he spoke, pride glowing in his eyes and voice as he continued: "But do not let her age deceive you. She is as clever as she is beautiful, courageous as she is kind. Historia is the queen Gaiola needs, and the one it deserves, and I know that she will give her heart to lead and protect this kingdom to the last. I hope that you will all return the favor and serve your kingdom as you would yourself, just as your queen will certainly do for you."

Historia was so spellbound by the man's words that it took her a second to put together that the lightheartedly encouraging smile he was giving her was a prompt to speak herself. The blonde girl turned to the people, beaming as she began: "I would like to formally affirm everything Sir Edros has just said. I pledge my heart to this kingdom and promise to serve you until my last breath. I don't know about all the things he said about being brave or clever or beautiful, but I do know that I have the willingness to do whatever it takes to be a kind, fair, strong monarch, and I intend to do just that. Thank you all for the wonderful welcome you have given me. Ascending the throne is not as easy as it may seem, and I consider myself the luckiest girl in the world to serve such a kind hearted, supportive kingdom. Without your faith, I do not know if I would have survived this first week."

She paused as light laughter followed her statement. "I'm serious! Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. I am honored to serve this kingdom and hope to be the queen you deserve. Let me welcome you once again to the royal festivities. Have a wonderful evening!"

The cheering and clapping that followed her speech left her glowing, and praying that her face hadn't turned the color of her gown. She beamed as her eyes scanned the faces of her citizens. They all looked so happy, so impressed, so confident in her abilities, so proud. Historia tucked away that image to pull out on a rainy day.

"Let the evening begin!" Sir Edros announced with a flourish of the hand. The orchestra began to play a fun, upbeat number and the people fell right into step, like pieces of clockwork. Laughter and casual banter rang in time with the music as partners circled around the floor, the ladies' gowns an array of dazzling colors as they spun and twirled. Sir Edros lead Historia back to her guards and gave them all permission to join the fun before disappearing to meet up with the other royal ministers, also dressed in suits of black with gold and white accents.

"The night is young, and so are we," Connie said with a dramatic lilt in his voice. The boy gave an overly dramatic bow, sweeping his arm above his head. "Shall we to the dance, my friends?"

"Let's show them how the queen's royal guard gets funky with it," Marco replied enthusiastically.

"Please tell everyone that when we get out on the dance floor," Jean said, sarcasm thick in his voice. Marco threw his arm around Jean's shoulder.

"Just for you, I will," he joked. Historia giggled as she walked along behind them, heart racing with anticipation and excitement. She'd been to a handful of balls before, just enough to count on one hand, but never one so elegant or important. Nor had she ever been the star before. But walking towards the dance floor, surrounded by Marco's cheerful smile, Jean's genuine laughter, and the adorable, oblivious flirting going on between Sasha and Connie behind her, the fun of the evening ran through her veins like liquid gold.

"Hey guys!"

The group turned to see Armin moving towards them, waving with a big smile on his face and bringing Mikasa and Eren along with him. The blonde boy looked dashing as ever in a black suit coat with a green vest underneath and his hair gelled away from his face. Eren wore a similar outfit, his vest the same royal blue as the gown Mikasa was wearing, an elegantly simple piece that looked like it was made for the raven-haired girl.

"Well, don't we clean up nice," Marco said, sounding impressed as he drunk in the sight of the trio. "Mikasa, you look gorgeous."

"Doesn't she?" Eren asked rhetorically. His eyes slid down the length of Mikasa's dress as a smile lit up his face. "She looks like she could be a princess, am I right?"

"Eren," Mikasa said as a blush illuminated her cheeks. Jean's spine stiffened.

"What? It's the truth!" the brunette argued. "I mean, you do! And so does Sasha," he pointed out, smiling at the other girl and making her blush as well. Connie's muscles tensed. "And I mean, Historia always looks like a princess. However, you look extra royal tonight, my lady."

"Thank you," Historia said with a small curtsy to the boy's charming wit. "You look spectacular yourself. You all do." The queen beamed at her friends. "So why don't we all go show them… uh, how'd you put it Marco?"

"How the queen's court gets funky with it!" the freckled boy repeated with enthusiasm.

"Right!" Historia said with a nod. "Let's show them how the queen's court gets funky with it!"

"Dear god, the queen's said it. It's a thing now," Jean moaned overdramatically. Historia giggled, grabbing Jean's hand and pulling him along with her towards the dance floor. "Hey!"

"Hey what? I'm choosing you as the first person to officially dance with the queen," the blonde said with a devious glint in her eyes. She looped her arm through the boy's, giving the appearance that it had been his choice to escort her to the floor. "You want to pass that title on to someone else? Eren maybe?"

Jean's lips betrayed him as he glared down at the girl, curving up into a genuine smile. "You're too good at this game," he said in reply, carefully wrapping one hand around her waist and repositioning the hand Historia was already holding into the proper position. "I will gladly be your first dance, your highness."

"I'm honored," Historia sighed, dramatically looking up at the ceiling before returning her gaze to Jean's hazel eyes. The music flowed into an elegant waltz. The sea of people around them, coupled off into pairs, began to move in time to the music. They began to turn in a large circle that encompassed the entire dance floor, as if the floor were slowly rotating beneath them. Jean and Historia fell into step with them, the boy leading with a careful precision, ensuring that he wouldn't also be the first to step on the queen's toes.

The duo melted right into the crowd, twisting and twirling along next to nobles and peasantry alike. That was perhaps the true magic of a royal ball: everyone looked so lovely, social class became irrelevant. The beauty of the event, the magic of the very idea of a ball, overtook the mind and senses and leveled all playing fields. All one knew was the joy of dancing and the bliss of dressing up. Historia had to admit that of all the dresses she'd worn so far, this gown was by far her favorite. The sleeveless, sweetheart neckline, the bodice that snugly hugged her upper body, the skirts that flared around her legs, the brilliant scarlet color; everything about it was perfect.

As the dancing continued, Historia kept her eyes focused on Jean, from the perfect fit of his silver vest and black jacket to his hazel eyes, sparkling under the chandelier light and clouded with concentration. Although the crowd around them hadn't paused in their dancing to stare when she'd approached, the girl could feel their eyes watching her. With each turn, a new face got a glimpse of the queen. Of course they had no malicious intentions; they were simply curious people doing what curious people did: stare. But their curious scrutiny brought with it more pressure than they knew. It was daunting. Reflexively, the girl's hands tightened around Jean's hand and shoulder.

"Hey," Jean whispered. Historia blinked, her eyes focusing up at his shining smile. "Stop worrying. Have fun."

The girl smiled. "I'm trying," she replied quietly.

"Try harder, Highness," Jean said with a smile before twirling her under his arm, her bright red skirts flaring around her like a flash of flames. Historia laughed as she clung to Jean again, the sound clearly genuine enough to earn her a glittering smile from the taller boy. The moment was broken as the waltz drew to a close. The couple released one another to applaud along with the rest of the partygoers, cheering on the orchestra. The two were further distracted by a tap on Jean's shoulder.

"Would it be alright if I asked to share the next dance with our royal highness?" Marco asked, proffering his hand to the queen as he fell into a respectful bow.

"She's all yours," Jean answered, handing Historia off to the freckled brunette. "I've got to go find Mikasa anyway. Thank you for honoring me with your first dance, my lady," he bowed, graceful as a cat. He winked a gleaming hazel eye at the blonde girl before disappearing into the crowd.

"Go get her, Prince Charming," Historia called encouragingly. The orchestra began to play an up tempo quadrille. The girl gripped Marco's shoulder tightly, her back straightening when she felt his hand gently grace her hip. The music began to pick up, capturing the dancers in its alluring rhythm once again. "How are you?" Historia asked as the crowd began to blur around them.

"I'm fantastic! How are you?" Marco beamed.

"Wonderful!" Historia replied with a laugh. "And look, we match!" The brunette glanced down at his crimson vest, then back at Historia's gown.

"Would you look at that," Marco commented simply, spinning the girl under his arm. "Want to say we planned it?"

"If anyone asks, I'll send them your way," Historia answered lightheartedly. "And then you can show them how funky the knights' guild can be."

Marco laughed, his shoulders shaking. "I'm never living that down, am I?" he asked, twirling her around again. The duo then pushed an arms length away from one another before swinging back together, ending with yet another spin, arms somehow escaping getting locked together. Historia laughed from pure delight. "But truly, your highness, you look spectacular tonight. Practically glowing. Like you were made to be queen."

"Marco," Historia sighed with a small laugh. "You're making me blush."

"But it's true," the brunette insisted, spinning the blonde out then pulling her back so gently the girl gasped from the power of such a light movement. "And I think you need to hear that more than just being told you look pretty." His face was mere inches away from hers. She could see strains of a lighter, golden brown snaking through his dark irises. A warmth spread through the blonde's chest at the genuine kindness emanating from the boy holding her close, smiling like the sun itself.

"You're too kind," Historia whispered, biting lightly at her lip. "Really, Marco."

The boy only smiled in response, spinning her around again. Historia began to wonder how Marco smiled so much. Her cheeks were still aching from the meetings two days ago. She'd have to ask him about that some other time. The music of the orchestra slowed to a stop, pausing for another round of applause. As their steps slowed, Marco and Historia were met with another visitor.

"Excuse me for intruding, but may I have a dance with the queen?" Armin asked with a charming smile. Marco stepped away from Historia, bowing ceremoniously.

"Thank you for the dance, your highness," the freckled boy said in parting, taking a hold of the queen's hand and kissing it ever so lightly.

"Thank you," Historia replied. Marco disappeared into the crowd, trademark smile lighting up his face. Armin took up Marco's place as a gavotte began to play. Historia's heart gave a beat at the much welcomed height difference.

"Having fun?" the blonde boy asked, leading Historia with a practiced grace, as if he were calculating every move. The girl found it endearing, exactly what was to be expected from the boy.

"Yes, I am," she answered honestly. "And you?"

"I'm getting there," Armin nodded. "I'm trying to be too many people's wingman. It's kind of exhausting."

Historia laughed. "But you still have the energy for one dance with me?"

"Always," Armin beamed brightly as they pulled an arm's length away from one another, coming together on the left, then apart again, then the right, before returning to their natural dance position. The crowd was moving in a large circle again, orbiting the dance floor with an array of colors.

"So who are you helping score a date to a dance that's already started?" Historia asked conversationally, the rhythm of the dance slow enough to allow for more in depth discussion. She still kept her voice at about a whisper to avoid eavesdroppers.

"Well, Connie," Armin began with a sigh. "And Jean. Mikasa. Sort of Eren. It's all very complicated and there are a lot of entangling interests, but I'm doing my best."

Historia giggled. "I'm sure you are," she commented, sliding smoothly under the boy's arm as he spun her in a slow circle. "How do you know Eren?"

Armin's eyes widened. "Oh my, I forgot, you just met all of us!" The boy gave a small chuckle. "Eren is my best friend. Him, Mikasa, and I have known each other since we were little, growing up on the same street. But Eren couldn't join the knights' guild with Mikasa and I because of hereditary high injury risk. So he got a job working at the Dragon's Den, and we go and visit him whenever we can."

"Aw, that's so sweet," the girl said in response. "But that's sad that Eren couldn't join the knights' guild."

"Yeah," Armin sighed, his blue eyes growing sad for a moment. "He was really upset afterwards. He was the one that suggested we apply in the first place. But he just couldn't join, not with his ma- health risk." The boy spun Historia out and pulled her back in. When she looked back at him, a charming smile had replaced the pensive expression of a second ago. "It's all okay now, though. Besides, we don't have to talk about such boring things when we're at a ball. A ball celebrating you!"

"Armin," Historia giggled at his sudden excitement. The boy merely spun her around again, ignoring her protests at his enthusiasm. After the song ended, the night began to move in a whirlwind for Historia. Eren had found her after Armin, formally introducing himself and leading her gracefully through another waltz. Sasha had interrupted them afterwards, claiming Historia as her partner for the following Mazurka. Mina stepped up after Sasha. Historia felt as though her heart could explode with happiness as she took turns spinning around with her childhood friend to the soft, sweet melody of a quadrille. After Mina, Sir Smith approached, stepping her through a methodical schottische. Awkward as it was at first, Historia felt somewhat at ease dancing with the master of the knights' guild; as intimidating as he looked, the blonde man had been smiling pleasantly at her the whole time, very relaxed and casual as if they were practicing instead of performing in front of the crowd.

Sir Edros succeeded Sir Smith in the waltz that followed. The Prime Minister did not try to speak with the queen, simply sharing a delighted smile with her, communicating to her his pride and pleasure with the reception of the event. They danced together easily, not as comfortable as the girl had felt with the master knight, but still safe and easy. The numerous nobles that approached her during the length of the next three dances were not nearly as enjoyable. Many of them had been too rigid to move properly, some too forceful for her to keep up, others too calculated to call their movement dancing. There had been little to none of the small talk she'd shared with her friends, and naturally a few steps to her toes.

After three dances with the squabbling nobles, Historia excused herself for a break, needing a moment to catch her breath. The girl had only been out for one dance, enough time to catch a quick drink of water after talking to a group of ladies from the village, before the nobles began to press in again. Historia could see them approaching slowly from all sides and began to steel herself for another round of mechanical waltzes and squashed toes.

"Excuse me, your highness, but I believe we've met before."

The blonde girl turned around to address the voice behind her. She hadn't recognized the speaker right away. A smile of relief spread on her lips at the familiar face.

"Yes, I do believe we have. You're Reiner, right?" she asked, looking up at the tall, muscular blonde.

"Hey, I'm surprised you remember," the boy grinned, offering her a polite bow. "It's nice to see you again," he said, reaching for her hand and kissing it softly, "my lady."

Historia curtsied in response, heat rising in her cheeks. "The pleasure is all mine. Would you like to dance?"

"I was just about to ask you the same thing," Reiner replied. He held his arm out and Historia happily looped her arm around his, successfully avoiding the pressing nobles. The orchestra was starting on a smooth gavotte. The height difference between her and Reiner was a bit more dramatic than it had been with her previous partners, but Historia couldn't have cared less. Compared to the stiff backed, straight-legged nobles who'd been twirling her mechanically around the floor, Reiner was a dream. His hand felt warm in hers and safely soft against the small of her back. He felt real, human, as if he were enjoying the dance for the sake of dancing instead of a formality or an opportunity to be seen dancing with the queen.

"You're a very good dancer, your highness," Reiner complimented as the two got lost in the sea of dancers.

"Thank you," Historia nodded graciously. "You're rather talented yourself."

Reiner shrugged. "I've been practicing all this week in the event that I would catch you unattended at any moment." Historia's cheeks flared like fire, eliciting a chuckle from her companion. "I'm merely kidding, your highness. I just happened to see your face while dancing with all those old men, and when I saw more of them staring at you like predators, I figured you'd need a knight in shining armor to whisk you away."

Historia laughed. "Well thank you for that, brave knight," she joked lightly. Reiner smiled down at her, warm and genial, as they continued to spin with the crowd. It was comfortable, dancing with Reiner. He led her with an assured grace, as if he were still protecting her from something, perhaps more stepped on toes. Either way, he was the most enjoyable partner the girl had had for at least two hours.

"May I cut in?"

Historia blinked as Reiner spun her around once more to face a familiar brunette, freckled dusting her cheeks, in a gleaming gold dress and sporting an amused grin on her lips. Even with her stunning gown and hair done up in curls held together with golden pins, a drastic difference from the apron and ponytail she'd known prior, Historia knew her immediately. The only thing she couldn't remember was the name…

"Of course," the blonde boy said, bowing to Historia as he let go of her hand. "Your highness, it was a pleasure to…"

"Thank you!" the girl chirped, casually cutting in front of him and taking the hand he'd let go. Historia's eyes widened as the girl's other hand rested softly against her waist as she was spun away from Reiner, who was staring after them with a look of incredulous amazement. The taller girl chuckled to herself. Historia felt a laugh bubble up in her throat as well as she brought her hand to rest tentatively on the girl's bare shoulder.

"I thought you could use a bit of a break from all the pomp and circumstance," the brunette said, her dark eyes shining with an intensity Historia had never seen before. It was something about the way the light of the chandelier reflected off of those golden hazel irises, illuminating them as though there were flames dancing behind her eyes. There was something off setting about them; dangerous, but not enough to stay away.

"We've met before," Historia said tentatively as the two fell into step with the other dancers. "At the Dragon's Den, right?"

"Um-hm," the girl nodded, looking off thoughtfully. "I do believe we've run into each other there before."

"Then please don't be mad at me for asking, but what was your name again?" Historia asked, biting nervously at her lip.

"You mean you don't remember?" the brunette gasped, her golden eyes widening with shock. Historia shook her head guiltily.

"No! I just…"

The girl laughed, a short, musical sound that caught the queen by surprise. "I'm joking. We only met once, I could never expect you to remember a waitress' name after one time. That's asking way too much of a girl who has to run a kingdom. The name's Ymir."

"Oh yeah, Ymir!" Historia repeated, nodding her head with excited recognition. "I remember now! That's such a pretty name."

"No it isn't," Ymir replied flippantly.

"Yes it is," Historia argued earnestly.

"You really think my name's pretty?" Ymir asked, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side. The coy lilt in her voice sent a blush rising to Historia's cheeks.

"W-well… yes," the blonde answered, casting her eyes downward. She heard Ymir laugh again. It wasn't a mean laugh, just an amused little expression of pleasure. It was strangely enchanting.

"I'm honored."

The blonde's blue eyes snapped back up to the intense gaze of Ymir's golden orbs, watching her with a warm sense of amusement.

"Hm?"

"I'm honored that the queen finds my name to be pretty," Ymir replied. The smile on her lips was smooth as silk, and cool as ice. It was off-putting in the most satisfying way. Historia couldn't explain the feeling. She didn't feel much like trying either.

"I'm surprised you haven't been told so before," the queen replied.

Ymir shrugged. "Doesn't bother me. I prefer to walk along the edges, unnoticed. Makes it easier to observe things and time your jokes perfectly."

"You tell jokes?" Historia asked hopefully.

"Not in the literal sense, highness," Ymir answered. "You'd hate me as a court jester."

"Oh I wasn't…"

Ymir's laugh cut her off. "You are too adorable. Highness, I'm messing with you!" the brunette exclaimed. "That's my kid of jokes: sarcasm and biting wit."

The blonde blinked. Her face suddenly became very serious, yet her body continued to move mechanically in time with the music. "Are you saying that you've been teasing your queen? That's grounds for immediate execution." Ymir's dark eyebrows knit together as he lips formed a tight frown. Neither girl pulled her hands away nor stopped gently spinning with the other.

"Really?"

A large grin spread across the blonde's face. "Nope! I'm just messing with you!" Her eyes sparkled like pools of iridescent water under the chandelier light.

Ymir blushed for only a second before her face melted back into its mask of amused boredom. "Clever girl. You learn fast." Historia smiled proudly. "Wow. Beautiful, brave, elegant, and smart. What aren't you, Queen Historia?"

It was the blonde's turn to blush yet again. "I'm not brave," she replied honestly, a resigned smile pulling at her lips.

"Of course you are. You stood up to those no-good sorcerers that crashed your coronation," Ymir said in response. "That must've taken a lot of courage. Not to mention the fact that you became queen at sixteen. That's gutsy, highness. You're one of few who would accept such a responsibility. You're braver than you think."

The blonde looked away shyly. She felt the fire of a blush heating her face.

"Hey," Ymir said softly, lifting Historia's chin so that their eyes met again. "I mean it. Don't sell yourself short, kid."

"You're too kind," the blonde replied. Her heart was swelling in her chest at the kindness so genuine in the other girls voice and the gleam in her eyes that was strangely close to admiration. "Really."

Ymir smiled, graceful and hard to read as a cat. "So, what's it like dancing with the Prime Minister? He looks like such an uptight man, I'm sure it was like waltzing with a broomstick with arms." Historia giggled, a little harder than she'd intended. Her head had begun to swim a bit, her vision blurring slightly around the edges. She kept her eyes focused on Ymir, finding that almost more dizzying than the dancing.

"Sir Edros really was not all that bad of a dancer," the blonde girl replied. "Actually, of all the nobles who've honored me with a dance this evening, he was probably the best."

"Ah yes, the nobles," Ymir said, a laugh in her voice. "I'd forgotten about the army of stuffy, stiff legged old men. You _are_ brave, aren't you?"

Historia giggled as the gavotte drew to a close with a flourish from the orchestra. The crowd began to clap. Historia drew her hands away from Ymir and applauded with them, the brunette following suit with a look of sheer boredom on her face as she glanced around the room. Historia tried to follow her gaze, but paused when she felt a hand on her arm. She looked up to see Ymir smiling down on her with that same dangerous gleam in her eyes.

Historia felt her knees turn to jelly, thankful Ymir began to pull her towards the balcony doors before she could collapse.

"Come with me," was all the brunette said, her voice dissolving into the noise of the crowd. Historia could do nothing but follow, carried along by a wave of reckless abandon and another tingling feeling in her chest she couldn't quite identify. Whatever it was, though, felt exhilarating and was enough to convince the girl to let whatever was about to happen, happen.

~~~~0000~~~~

"Connie?"

"Y-yeah?" the boy asked, looking up from his shoes to Sasha's eyes, which were sparkling with amusement under the golden lights from the chandelier.

"You can hold my hand, you know," the girl said with a soft giggle that had Connie's cheeks turning scarlet.

"Right," he scoffed, trying to play it cool as he gently pulled one of her hands off his shoulder to clasp it firmly between his own shaking fingers. "I just didn't want to make you hold my hand right away. To be proper and all."

"Um-hm," Sasha muttered, nodding like she didn't believe a word he said. But she didn't care much what his excuse was, cause Connie was nervous and was ten times cuter for being so. She didn't say anything else either as the two of them fell back into step, their slightly awkward movements becoming smooth and fluid as they relaxed. Sasha couldn't say why she felt so tense all of the sudden, except maybe because the lights were bringing out the luminescent green and gold undertones in Connie's eyes. For his part, Connie couldn't explain how he felt either, except that he'd never seen Sasha in something as beautiful as the violet gown she wore now. (He's never seen her in anything so close fitted either, showing off more of her than he'd ever seen, but that certainly would never admit that was the reason his heart fluttered every time she looked at him.)

Regardless of the reason neither one wanted to admit, dancing together was a one of a kind experience. It was like everyone else in the room had disappeared, leaving the two alone in a glittering world of golden light. There was just something about the way Connie held Sasha's waist as if she were about to leave him, and the look Sasha gave Connie every time he spun her around, and the fact that her hand fit perfectly in his. Connie figured this must be what magic felt like.

Jean broke the spell like the harsh chime of a clock.

"Where's Historia?" the boy asked, his eyes scanning the room. Connie and Sasha split apart quickly, guiltily, as one usually does after such a dance.

"I don't know. Can't you see her?" Connie asked in reply, following Jean's move and looking around. "Her dress shouldn't be hard to find."

"I don't see her. Come on," Jean urged, walking off through the sea of dancers. Connie looked at Sasha, wistfully holding each other's gaze for only a moment before they set off on Jean's heels. They ran into Marco, who was talking with Armin, only a few feet away.

"Marco, have you seen Historia?" Jean asked as the trio pulled up in front of him. Marco cast an anxious look around the room.

"No," the freckled boy shook his head, worry coloring his face. "Where do you think she went?"

"I don't know. But we have to find her," Sasha replied. "Or at least figure out where she is."

"Come on," Marco said, heading off towards the platform. "Let's get a little height advantage." The group set off after Marco, careening around twirling partygoers. It was like a living labyrinth.

They were nearly at the stage when Jean realized there were only four of them. "Wait, Armin's not…" he began, turning back to call for the blonde. "Armin?"

Through the sea of people, Jean could see that Armin stood where they'd left him, still as a statue, blue eyes wide and face pale like he'd seen a ghost.

"Armin!" Jean exclaimed. He ran back just in time for the blonde's eyes to snap shut, every muscles freezing up. "Oh no," Jean breathed as he felt the others surround him. He gently shook Armin by the shoulders. "Armin? Can you hear me?" The other three had noticed Jean move back and were now at his side.

"What's wrong?" Marco asked in alarm, moving forward and placing a hand on Armin's shoulder.

"He's a…" Connie began. He paused, scanning the room for any potential eavesdroppers. "… he's a seer," the boy whispered. Marco's lips parted in surprise.

"So this is a…?"

"Yes," Jean answered, cutting him off. "What are we supposed to do?"

"Get him out of here first," Sasha replied, glancing around the room again. Armin's lips were moving with silent words, his body trembling more violently every second. "Before we draw any more attention."

"And if I remember correctly, Mikasa said it doesn't take long for him to start screaming," Jean added as Marco moved forward and wrap an arm beneath Armin's shoulders, effectively carrying the boy in an unassuming manner.

"Where should we take him?" he asked, directing the question to Sasha. The girl looked to Jean. The sandy haired boy bit his lip before leading the group towards a back hallway that was luckily vacant when they arrived. Connie shut the door tightly behind them as Marco laid Armin against the wall. The blonde remained standing, leaning against the wall, his knees locked. He was trembling so hard, Marco clamped his arms together in a useless attempt to make it stop.

"Now what?" Connie asked, wringing his hands nervously. "Should I go find Eren or Mikasa?"

"No, we can handle this," Jean replied with more force than necessary, the pressure of the situation frustrating him. "What did Hanji do the day at the Dragon's Den?"

"Help me loosen his hands," Sasha gasped suddenly, reaching for one of Armin's arms and setting about prying his fingers out of fists. Jean reached for Armin's other arm, and had his bare palm open in a matter of seconds. He offered it to Sasha, who took the hand willingly and began to run her thumbs in slow circles over the soft flesh of his palms.

Slowly, Armin stopped shaking. He stopped mumbling. His muscles relaxed and he slid down the wall into a sitting position, his head resting against the stone. Sasha knelt down with him, still holding his hands. His eyes opened, revealing two orbs of solid white before he blinked and they became sky blue once again. The blonde boy gasped after his eyes came back, instantly pulling his hands from Sasha and hiding his face with them.

"Armin?" Jean asked, kneeling down next to the blonde and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Armin, are you alright?"

"Y-yeah," the blonde stuttered, not moving his hands away from his face. Jean frowned before turning to Marco and Connie.

"Could you go grab him some water?" the fair-haired boy asked. Connie nodded, holding the door open for Marco to follow him. The freckled brunette looked rather shaken up as he walked out as if in a daze. Jean watched him worriedly, deciding he could deal with a shell-shocked Marco after they got Armin back on his feet.

As if cued by his thoughts, a choked sob sounded from the blonde crumpled on the floor. Jean turned his attention back in time to see Sasha lean forward and whisper something to the blonde, only for Armin to spring forward and wrap his arms around her neck. The girl wound her arms around the shorter boy as his body convulsed with gasping cries, holding him close.

"Armin, what did you see?" she asked gently. But Jean could see the panic on her face.

"N-nothing," the boy shook his head. "Just that… that Historia's going to meet someone tonight. Someone charming. A potential suitor." Armin took a deep breath. "I just… it just hurts." He nuzzled closer to Sasha, hiding his face in her shoulder. The girl turned worried brown eyes on Jean. _Get Mikasa,_ she mouthed silently. Jean nodded, and without a word, he disappeared into the crowd.

 **Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you liked this chapter, cause I had a ton of fun writing it. Sorry for some of the bad descriptions of dancing or dresses or something, sometimes it looks good in my head but I can't get the words right.**

 **Feel free to leave your comments below! Make my day, I dare you.**

 **Have a great day!**


	10. Prince Charming

**Welcome back for the third and final installment of the royal ball arc! But don't be dismayed, there's more fun, romance, and adventure on the way!**

 **Just a note, the formatting of the 'flashback' is a little funky this time, so please bear with me. It should make sense why it is the way it is right away (it's like reverse italicizing if you were to put a word on it!) Basically, the chunk of regular font is a vision, and all the regular font after are Armin's thoughts.**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

~~~~0000~~~~

Friday, August 28, 1513

 _Armin never knew when a vision was going to hit him. He'd never been able to predict it, only realizing what was happening much too late for him to warn anyone or prepare himself. So he didn't think much of it when the air around him seemed to thicken, his body feeling both too hot and too cold at the same time. He'd never been in such a crowded room before, and attributed the odd feeling to the fact that the ballroom was swarming with people, which was likely to make one feel a little lightheaded and out of sorts. But when his legs suddenly froze in the middle of the ballroom, he panicked. The last thing he saw were the retreating forms of his friends before the glittering ballroom dissolved into a string of images so clear and vivid, they stung._

Armin saw the Furies running down a side street, feet silent as they sprinted over the cobblestones, using a spell of silence to avoid detection. Something was chasing them, something that looked like a very big dog, perhaps a wolf. At the first crossroad, the five sorcerers made a sharp left turn, the Fury in black pausing after everyone and creating a latticework of glowing silver bars to keep the creature pursuing them out. And it seemed to work as the five ran on without the thing following.

"Woo! Nice work!" the Violet Fury exclaimed. "And the silver was a nice touch, even if it is only an illusion."

"How do you know it isn't real?" the Black Fury asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Is anything you create ever real?" Violet asked trickily. "I personally can never tell."

Black shrugged. "A magician never reveals his secrets." The sound of the waterway filled the air as the group ran out onto the main road that ran parallel to the river. The road was thankfully deserted.

"Speaking of secrets," the Blue Fury spoke up as the group slowed to a halt at the back of a building. A wooden door was carved into the smooth, sand colored stone of the wall, golden light peeking out from square shaped window cut into the wood. The girl in purple pulled the door open and waltzed inside, the others following, as if it were their house. Which it was; the fact flooded through Armin's mind as if he'd always known it. By the time the other four sorcerers had shuffled in, the woman in blue had pulled away her mask, revealing the sharply angled face and cold blue eyes of Annie Leonhardt. "I really don't know why you keep complimenting me on these masks," the blonde commented plainly, throwing her mask on a bench in the entryway. "They're awful." The mask had left a line of red scars arching from the girl's eyes, like raw, angry sunrays. They didn't appear to bother her much as she continued to calmly unfasten her sapphire cape.

"No they're not," the Violet Fury replied candidly, pulling her own mask away from her freckled cheeks. Ymir. "I mean, could they hurt less when you take them off? Yeah. But it's worth it that they don't fall off in combat."

"Combat? You make it sound like we condone violence," the Red Fury spoke up in a joking tone that could only belong to Reiner Braun. The blonde pulled his own mask off just as Bertholdt removed his as well.

"Oh sorry. I forgot that we're a pacifistic gaggle of hooligans set out to pull practical jokes on the monarchy instead of engage them in battle," Ymir replied sarcastically. "Jokesters on a mission to cause as much tomfoolery as possible without a leaving a scratch on any poor soul's head." Reiner rolled his eyes. "Besides, Bertl's like the most violent person I know, so I think that if you're going to lecture anybody about violence, it should be him."

"What? No!" Bertholdt exclaimed, blushing madly at the accusation. Ymir offered him a cat like grin, mischief sparkling in her golden eyes.

"Relax," the Green Fury laughed, an all too familiar laugh. "We all know that's not true," he said reassuringly as he pulled away his mask with a little difficulty, revealing the face of Eren Jaeger. "If anyone here has violence issues, I think we can all agree that it's me..."

 _The vision came to a screeching halt, like a train braking just before the brink of a cliff. Armin's eyes opened onto a dimly lit corridor, his breaths coming fast, as if he'd surfaced from being underwater. The first thing he focused on was Sasha Blaus, kneeling in front of him, holding his hands as she watched him with worry sketched all over her face._

 _Suddenly, the vision of Eren pulling away the mask pushed its way to the front of the blonde's mind. He ripped his hands out of Sasha's grip, sucking in a startled breath, his face falling into his hands as he was overcome by the shock of it all._ I know the Furies. I know all of them. Eren's a Fury. Eren…

 _"Armin?" Jean's voice asked gently. A hand touched his shoulder. "Armin, are you alright?"_

 _"Y-yeah," the blonde got out around the lump in his throat. It was one of the biggest lies he'd ever told, though. His head was pounding like he'd been hit upside the head with a club. His body felt like jelly, as it usually did after the forced tension of a vision. And his heart was aching at the image of Eren pulling the green mask from his face._ Eren, how could you?

 _"Could you go grab him some water?" It was Jean's voice again, talking to someone Armin couldn't see. He heard footsteps walk away, the sound of a door opening and closing. It was such a simple sound, footsteps on stone, that Armin lost it. Tears stung the backs of his eyes and a choked sob broke free from his throat._ Why? Why didn't I know?

 _"Armin, what hurts, sweetheart?" Sasha's voice, gentle and close, whispered in his ear. Although he was having trouble keeping his thoughts in line, Armin opened his eyes, meeting brown eyes that were watching him with such genuine concern that he couldn't stop himself from throwing his arms around the girl and hugging her as if his life depended on it. He started to cry harder, against his will, as Sasha wrapped him in her arms, surrounding him with a reminder he needed. He still had friends who didn't keep secrets from him._

 _"Armin, what did you see?" Sasha asked carefully._

 _A flash of something cut through the boy's heart, rising deep from the depths of his being. He knew he couldn't tell them the truth. Even for his betrayal of trust, Armin was still fiercely loyal to Eren and his friendship, and liar or not, Armin would defend him to the grave. "N-nothing," he lied, shaking his head. "Just that… that Historia's going to meet someone tonight. Someone charming. A potential suitor." That sounded like a suitable answer. But it didn't stop the pain churning in his chest. "I just… it just hurts."_

 _He hid his face in Sasha's shoulder._

Why Eren? Why didn't you tell me? Why am I the last to know?

~~~~0000~~~~

Friday, August 28, 1513

The night was cool with rain as Ymir and Historia left the bustle of the ballroom in favor of one of the adjacent balconies. Temporary roofs of wood and cloth had been set above the terrace to keep out the rain. Ymir moved right towards the edge, staring out at the gardens below. Historia followed, setting her gloved hands against the stone barrier. Raindrops fell not two inches from her face. The soft breeze that carried them felt refreshing on her face, overheated from the all the dancing (and blushing) she'd been up to that night.

"It's beautiful out here," the blonde girl sighed, looking out at the gardens. The rain obscured the view to the neatly trimmed bushes, perfectly placed trees, and colorful arrangements of flowers. The gardens had been one of Historia's favorite parts about the castle in the two weeks she'd been living there. She loved the natural beauty of it all, and seeing the bright buds in the sunlight reminded her of growing up with the Carolinas, and all those fond memories. But there was something about looking at a garden soaked with rain, it seemed to shimmer with an ethereal beauty one couldn't usually find in a village crowded by people.

"Definitely an improvement from in there," Ymir commented, nodding her head in the direction of the ballroom. The door still stood open, pouring warm light and the sounds of music out onto the terrace. "I mean, don't get me wrong, the décor looks marvelous. There are just one too many people for my liking."

"Only one too many?" Historia questioned with a smiled.

"Maybe twenty," Ymir shrugged. "Or more." A smile tugged at her lips as she continued to stare fixatedly at the gardens. Historia did the same, pulling her eyes away from the mysterious brunette. As much as she liked the gardens, the blonde was hoping Ymir would offer her another dance.

Dancing with Ymir had been completely different than dancing with anybody else. She certainly wasn't bored or pained or frustrated by her; the freckled brunette had the grace of a cat and masterful technique. But she didn't feel happy with Ymir either, or wild, or safe. Instead, she'd just existed. She felt nothing in particular except a faint sense of comfort and lightheadedness. It had been a unique feeling, one Historia hadn't felt before. It was as though she'd found a moment time and space had carved out specifically for her, and she'd fit right in like a hand in a glove. Simply existed with one of Ymir's hands on her waist and the other holding Historia's own hand tight.

Just thinking about it now made the blonde girl's heart flutter. It had almost felt like magic.

"So, what's it like working at the Dragon's Den?" Historia asked in an attempt to stir up the conversation. Ymir chuckled. "What?"

"You're just too adorable," the brunette shook her head. "But to answer your question, it's an experience, but it's home. Some days are better than others. I've worked there since I was eight, lived there since then too."

Historia's eyes widened. "Lived there?"

Ymir nodded. "Yep. I lost my parents when I was seven, and the owner let me on as an apprentice. Well, I became an apprentice at ten; they kind of just tolerated me for three years before that. You're looking at a full fledged, real life, orphan." Her tone was light, humorous even, but Historia knew it couldn't be real.

"I'm an orphan too," the blonde said softly. Ymir looked at her with curious eyes. "My parents died in a fire when I was just a baby. One of the noble families took me in. I didn't even know I was a princess until I was twelve." She paused, blushing a bit. "But that probably sounds totally conceited after your story."

"Yeah, there is something a little more romantic about growing up a princess in disguise than a waitress," Ymir commented. Historia felt guilt rising in her chest. "But please, don't act like one of us had it worse off. Cause an orphan's an orphan no matter where you put them. The pain's still the same." Historia searched the other girl's face for a sign of something: sadness, anger, longing. But she could find none. Either Ymir was an expert at guarding her heart and hiding her emotions, or she really didn't care about the loss of her family.

"Anyway, onto lighter things, the restaurant really is a fun place to be," Ymir went on. "There are a number of other apprentices there and we goof off a lot. Pull pranks on one another."

"Tell jokes?" Historia asked. Ymir smiled.

"Yes. We tell jokes all the time," the brunette answered. "I've become an expert at laying traps for my poor, unsuspecting co-workers who should know me well enough by now to know that everything they say and do can and will be used against them." Historia laughed.

"What a charming person you are," she joked.

Ymir shrugged. "Don't fix what's not broken," she said plainly, looking back out at the gardens. Historia continued to stare at the girl. At the freckles dusting her tanned cheek. At the soft curls of her dark hair fastened to her head with golden pins. At the delicate curve of her lips. She certainly didn't _look_ broken. But her thoughts from earlier began to resurface. Maybe Ymir was so hard and unreadable on the outside because she was broken on the inside. Of course, it was horribly early for her to pass judgments like that on a girl she'd just met.

"What would you say if I told you I was completely captivated by you?" Ymir asked suddenly, plucking a white flower from one of the bushes hanging in a box below the balcony.

Talk about passing judgments too early.

Historia's lips parted, her cheeks flushing the slightest pink. She had not been expecting such a thing to come out of the brunette's mouth. Ymir's eyes remained fixed on the flower she rolled between her fingers, her expression emotionless and unreadable.

"I… wouldn't know what to say," Historia replied honestly, as one often does when presented with shocking news. Her voice was soft as she gazed out over the balcony. "Are you?"

"Perhaps," Ymir answered plainly, shrugging her shoulders ever so slightly. As if she told people she was captivated by them everyday.

"But we just met!" Historia exclaimed.

"You don't have to know a person to be captivated by them," the brunette replied, her sharp eyes glancing sideways at Historia. That dangerous gleam was back, taunting Historia to come closer and begging her to get away at the same time. The queen shut her lips tight, at a loss for words. Ymir laughed lightly, tucking a stray curl behind her ear before turning to face Historia head on.

"Do you know why I brought you out here?" Ymir asked, leaning an elbow against the banister. "It's because you were about to be twirled about all over that dance floor by all the eligible young men of the village. And, don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with the village boys. They are clever of mind, beautiful of body, brave of heart, kind of soul. But they're boys. And you are the queen. A queen whose been on the throne for hardly a week, and needs to learn to focus on her duty." Historia blinked, watching her in mystification. "You don't have time to dabble with silly boys."

"I thought you said I was a good queen just a moment ago," Historia replied. She tried to sounds confused, hiding the stab of hurt that streaked through her chest at the hidden message in the brunette's words.

"I said you have the makings of a good queen," Ymir clarified, her gaze sharpening as her lips curled upwards. "You still have a ways to go before a final decision can be made. And I can assure you that you will be on your way to becoming a great queen sooner if you waste less time on boys."

"And what about you, then?" Historia fired back, her eyebrows knitting together. "If I can't spend time getting to know my citizens, why should I 'waste' any time on you?"

Ymir's grin widened. "I don't know. I wasn't under the impression that I would be taking up any more of your time after tonight."

Historia flushed, unable to pull her eyes away from Ymir's gaze. "But… you aren't making any sense! Sharing a dance is not the same thing as harboring lingering feelings…"

"I never said it was," Ymir replied.

"But you were implying….!"

"You know, I had another ulterior motive beneath protecting you from the village boys," Ymir interrupted her coyly, inspecting her flower again. Historia paused, placing her hands on her hips in frustrated confusion.

"And what might that be?" she asked expectantly.

"I've always been a sucker for a blonde in red," the brunette drawled with a wink before drifting past Historia, brushing her shoulder lightly as she paused to stick the white flower in the blonde's hair. The queen was sure the blush that lit up her face could have burned the castle down.

"Thank you for sparing a moment for me, your highness," Ymir said airily as she glided towards the door. "Your presence was perfection," she added, turning back in the doorway, framed by the golden light of the ballroom. The light danced across the circles of bronze etched into the gold fabric of her gown and illuminated the curls of her dark hair, her silhouette glittering like that of an angel as she turned to leave.

"Ymir!" Historia called after her, one pale arm reaching out to pull her back. The brunette turned, one eyebrow arching up in curiosity as the rest of her face and posture remained bored and unaffected. Now that she had her attention, the blonde suddenly forgot what words were, most specifically the words she wanted to say to the girl in front of her. "What did you mean about not dancing with the boys?" tumbled out breathlessly.

"It was simply a warning, highness," the freckled girl said genially.

"What kind of a warning?" Historia prompted.

"A warning to not waste your time falling in love when you've got a kingdom to run," Ymir answered plainly. Even from the distance to the doorway, Historia could feel the intensity of Ymir's gaze on her. "I wasn't really insulting your citizenry, I hope you know."

"When will I see you again?" the blonde asked quietly.

Ymir smiled, a genuine quirk of her lips. "You know where to find me. And the doors will always be open to you, highness."

Her words seemed to hang in the air like smoke as Ymir disappeared into the glow of the ball, melting back into the crowd beyond the doorway. Historia remained on the terrace, awestruck. She felt as though she'd just broken the surface of a lake or river after being underwater for the past hour: her head spinning, her heart beating wildly, and her lungs desperate for air. What had just happened?

It felt like both an eternity and only a few seconds since Ymir had snatched her away from Reiner, leading her around the floor in a dance made for them. The thought of it was so surreal, as if it had been a dream. Historia's fingers reached to touch the flower Ymir had put in her hair. The soft petals were her reminder that it was real. Dancing with Ymir had been real, Ymir's compliments were real, the butterflies in her stomach were real.

Historia laughed to herself. She felt like flying; she hadn't felt this light and happy since the coronation. With a spring in her step, the queen made her way back into the ballroom, her smile shining with pure joy as she made her way through the rest of the night talking to her citizenry and dancing the night away. Maybe there really was some kind of magic at work.

She only saw Ymir one more time, in passing, and the brunette handed her a small cup of water. "So you don't swoon in one of those silly boy's arms from heat exhaustion," she'd whispered with a wink before melting back into the crowd. There was something special about the taste of that water as Historia drank it down, though in retrospect, it was probably just the thrill of the exchange and the excitement of a passing joke.

Before she went to sleep that night, Historia placed the white flower on her dressing table, her fingers lingering on its soft petals. She fell asleep fast, her feet aching and her heart beating with joy. The ball had gone extremely well. The citizens all had a wonderful time. The nobles hadn't fought. Historia's friends had had a good time. And, best of all, the Furies hadn't showed up. The queen felt a weight lift from her chest at the thought as she drifted to sleep. She hadn't realized how much she'd been worrying about another magical interruption. All of that was over now, though. The ball had been a smashing success.

When Historia woke up, she looked over at the flower on her dressing table. It was still in pristine condition, the petals strong and vibrant with a luminous white hue, not showing any signs of wilting. The girl smiled.

 **Thanks for reading! As always, you're encouraged to drop a comment off below, let me know what you're thinking!** **Have a great day/night!**


	11. Courage

**Hey there readers! Welcome back!**

 **I have a sort of important announcement this week. I'll be heading back to school next weekend, which means that updates could be slow for the next few weeks, until I get used to my new schedule. I'm really sorry for any delays, it's my fault for getting lazy with pre-writing. But I will not be giving up on this story, far from it! It'll just be slower updates for a week or two. Thank you for your patience!**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

~~~~0000~~~~

 _Saturday, August 29, 1513_

 _Historia had to physically keep her eyes from drooping closed as the royal court filed into the room. She'd fallen asleep the previous night at two in the morning, and had been roused that morning at ten for an important foreign relations briefing that simply could not be rescheduled. The young queen had gotten up with little protest, though. The sight of the white flower Ymir had put in her hair, still alive and gleaming in the pale sunlight filtering in through the curtains, brought a smile to her face. It was going to be a good day._

 _The young queen wasn't the only one still recovering from the ball, though. By the looks of it, the nobles looked just as sleepy as she was._

 _"Attention, attention everyone!" Sir Edros' voice boomed as he banged a gavel against the stone table. The slight chatter echoing around the chamber died away. Historia sat at attention, eyes turned to the man seated at her right. Sir Edros had his hands tucked behind his back, his lips pressed into a thin line, his blue eyes sharp and unreadable. As if what he was about to say was something unpleasant. "I have summoned you all here to discuss an urgent matter of business. It has come to my attention that some of our distinguished neighbor kingdoms are worried about the state of affairs inside the walls of our dear Gaiola. Their concern is not that we have a new monarch, but that a threat has been posed to the monarchy when the queen has only been on the throne for a matter of days. That threat, as I'm sure you can figure out, is the group of sorcerers calling themselves the Furies."_

 _A hushed whisper rose amongst the nobles like a wave of the sea, rising and breaking fast when the Prime Minister cleared his throat as a sign that he was ready to continue._

 _"Therefore, we have been formally asked to issue a statement to our neighboring kingdoms, fully explaining our position in this issue and how we would like them, as our neighbors and allies, to proceed in counter-action," the Prime Minister finished, promptly glancing around the room. "I would like to now open the floor to any remarks you all may have concerning the matter."_

 _Historia, tired as she was, felt her heart clench at the thought of the Furies. She'd had such a nice time at the ball, she'd almost forgotten about them. And she hadn't even considered that other kingdoms could be worried about their state of affaires. Perhaps that was due to her lack of experience. Or maybe she hadn't wanted to think about it. Either way, it was an unpleasant surprise to hear them mentioned now._

 _A hand was raised, Sir Edros calling the man to speak, and the words that issued from his mouth were: "What does our royal highness suggest we say to our neighbors?"_

 _All eyes glanced towards Historia, sitting at the head of the table. The blonde felt her spine straighten instinctively, her brain kicking into high gear. The fog of sleep seemed to evaporate rather fast, carried away by the butterflies rising in her stomach._

 _Sir Edros' blue eyes were pointed directly at the queen, and in them, Historia could see trust. Faith. The Prime Minister believed in her. However, she also saw a hard edge in those blue irises, telling her exactly what to say and warning her against messing up. Historia wished eyes could talk, so then she'd know the words the Prime Minister wanted her to say, if indeed there was something specific he'd advise._

 _"My dear royal council," Historia began, her eye leaving the hard gaze of Sir Edros to sweep over the assembled nobles. "In regards to our situation, I do believe that we should start a message to our neighboring kingdoms by settling any fears they may have of the Furies, or any sorcerers, attacking their own lands. I feel that it would be important to stress that we have the problem contained, and will be able to settle the issue within our own walls and that no harm shall come to them if…"_

 _"Do we have the problem contained though, your highness?" a noble with a long, pointed nose asked. A collective gasp, sharp and quiet, passed through the room. Historia's heart raced, but she sat up a little straighter, tipping her chin higher in the air before giving an answer._

 _"We are still in the process of finding these rogue sorcerers, however, it has been confirmed that the Furies are only interested in plaguing our monarchy and our kingdom. Thus, the problem they pose is contained to Gaiola," the girl replied, her voice as steady as it could be. Sir Edros turned wide eyes in her direction that Historia ignored. "Now, that is not by any means good for us. It is, however, a perfect way to start correspondence with our neighbors. If they do not feel threatened, they will be more obliged to help us win our battles. People do not like to fight when there is a cost involved for them."_

 _"And how do you suggest we fight back against the sorcerers?" a noble woman questioned._

 _Historia took a deep breath, words materializing on her lips. "I say that we continue to have the elite knights hunt for any signs of the Furies in the kingdom. If they cannot be found, then we will begin searches in the lands outside the village. If we can find them, I believe that we should capture them and question them before any violent measures can be taken. If they really are trying to overthrow the monarchy, they may be working with outside sources, and it could be vital to Gaiola's survival to gain as much information from them as we can."_

 _A panicked silence followed the queen's words. Historia's gaze swept around the room, confused at the bewilderment she saw. "What seems to be the problem?" she asked, her light eyebrows arching in confusion._

 _"Are… has it been whispered that the Furies are acting out in rebellion against the monarchy?" the woman from before gasped, wide eyed with a hand clutching her heart._

 _Historia looked to Sir Edros, trying not to let her panic show. Her eyes asked the question her lips couldn't: "Didn't they know Sir Smith is calling them rebels against the crown? Was I not supposed to tell them about that?"_

 _Sir Edros offered her a gentle smile that answered none of her questions before banging the gavel against the table again to hush the unnerved nobles. "Ladies and gentlemen," the Prime Minister's voice boomed. "Yes, I know it comes as a bit of a shock so early in the morning on the day after a ball, but you had to be told sooner or later. And it wasn't as if we didn't see this coming. Sir Erwin Smith, commander of the knights' guild, has informed our royal highness and myself that the Furies have the potential to be spearheading a revolution."_

 _Murmured whispers rose again as the man continued, ignoring the chatter. "It is clear that someone, whether it be these Furies or beyond, had been waiting for a time to strike against us. And what time is more opportune than the ascension of a new, teenage monarch." The man turned a quick glance to Historia that the girl was unable to read. "We do not know who else is involved beyond these sorcerers. It may be just an isolated problem, and that is what we are hoping. But it could also be a warning, a signal, to unrest in the magic-kind still residing in our walls._

 _"Thus, it is with a heavy heart that I do declare that the Mystic Relocation acts either by reinforced with harsher terms, or that they be revoked altogether in favor of a new law forbidding magic-kind of all species with a penalty of death to all offenders." Historia's stared at her Prime Minister, who met her gaze with a cool, clever look in his eyes. He smiled at her, gentle and respectful as always._

 _The smile almost prevented Historia from shaking her head and speaking over the now squabbling nobles, saying: "Sir Edros, I beg your pardon, but I believe those terms are rather severe and much too hasty a step."_

 _The Prime Minister's dark eyebrows knit together as he gave her his full attention. "And what, may I ask, do you find severe about them, your highness?"_

 _"I do not believe that we should punish innocent lives with death for simply living in a certain place," the young girl offered in reply, voice steady and confident. "If the Furies are found, captured, and questioned, they may receive punishment as is due for their iniquities. We should not, however, threaten other citizens, magic-kind or not, for crimes they did not commit."_

 _Sir Edros stared at her for a long moment. His expression did not change, his lips pressed tightly together, but a war seemed to be raging in his mind. His eyes flashed with something (annoyance, anger?) before settling into a controlled composure that seemed to have come with years of practice. The queen decided to ask her Prime Minister to meet with her later, if he hadn't already made that decision for himself._

 _"You have a kind heart, highness," Sir Edros said in response. "Perhaps my ruling was harsh. Do forgive me. We will have plenty of time to discuss our plan of action within our own walls in the coming days. But first, we must decide how to address our dear neighbors. Are there any more suggestions on the floor?"_

 _As the nobles volunteered their opinions, Historia listened with half interest. She'd never heard such violent, severe thoughts come from the Prime Minister before. Then again, she hardly knew the man. Maybe there was more to him, a darker side than she'd witnessed so far. Maybe that happened to anyone who'd been working in the castle long enough; perhaps there wasn't always room to be kind this high up the ranks._

 _Historia began to fear for her own heart, promising herself that she wouldn't lose herself on the way. She hoped that was a promise she could keep._

~~~~0000~~~~

Monday, August 31, 1513

"I didn't know this was going to be a thing," Historia whispered to Marco and Jean as the two knights led her towards the carriage that would carry her through the streets of Gaiola in a matter of minutes. She'd been woken up by Mina and Hitch that morning, both girls radiating excitement as they dressed her up. The gown they'd chosen was an inky midnight blue, accentuating the golden color of the queen's hair, which had been curled and pulled up into soft ringlets fastened with pearl-studded pins. The bodice of the dress, embroidered with cream lace and trimmed with gold ribbon, fit tightly against her body, with off the shoulder sleeves that didn't pinch her arms as she thought they might. The skirts of the dress fell around her legs like a waterfall, far from the cupcake-esque hoop skirt of the ball. She felt rather pretty in his dress. And she hadn't forgotten to slip a certain flower, which still refused to die, behind her ear after Hitch and Mina had left to call her guard to escort the queen to the carriage.

Marco and Jean had been waiting for her outside the door of the chamber, and were quick to engage the girl in conversation. Both boys had offered her an arm, and she still had both of her own arms looped around theirs. She'd never had a double escort before, and had to admit that it felt rather fun.

"Well, it was supposed to happen the Monday after your coronation," Marco informed her as they reached the carriage. The queen pulled away from the boys and took Marco's hand to help her up into the seat. "But it was postponed for obvious reasons." The freckled boy was still smiling. Historia loved his smile, and beamed back at him.

"You guys will be with me, right?" she asked, glancing down at Jean and Marco from the height of the carriage.

Jean nodded. "Don't you worry, your highness. We'll be riding right along next to you."

"You don't have to call me…" Historia cut herself off as she saw all of the nobles puttering around.

"Yes, my lady?" Jean asked with a wink. The blonde girl smirked, gazing in front of her.

"I'll be glad to have you close by," she said quietly.

"We'll be glad to protect you," Marco replied before bowing respectfully. Jean mimicked his action. "We shall see you during the royal procession, your highness." Historia nodded. The boys disappeared. She missed their presence immediately. The girl had come to rather enjoy her guard. They made her feel like a teenager. They didn't expect her to act regal, or even mature. They saw her for her, and she'd come to love that, and the thought of having them close now made her feel even safer than the knowledge that the elite knights would also be part of the procession.

The carriage depressed for a moment as Sir Edros swung into his seat from the other side. The man beamed at Historia. "Ready?" he asked with an air of excitement. The Prime Minister was dressed in a white suit jacket and dress pants with a navy blue vest. A prim, white top hat sat on his head. His blue eyes were shining. He looked like the epitome of a happy nobleman.

Historia found herself smiling back, all traces of the tension that had fallen between them the day before vanishing. "As I'll ever be," she answered cheerily. "Are we going to be passing through the entire village?"

"As much of it as we can navigate," Sir Edros replied with a nod of his head. "The people are very excited to see you, your highness. And, if I may say so, I believe it is safe to say that they will be struck by how lovely you are."

Historia blushed. "Thank you, Sir Edros," she said demurely, her fingers running over the smooth silk of her own midnight blue gown.

"Ready, sir!" the knight leading the procession called, waiting for Sir Edros to give the signal.

"Forward!" the Prime Minister replied, tapping his finger in the air as if he were a conductor starting up an orchestra. The carriage lurched forward, moving with a steady pace until they reached the winding road that lead from the castle to the village. Historia watched as the elite knights, on horseback, moved to the head of the procession. And it didn't slip her notice as Jean and Sasha appeared to her left, and Marco and Connie on her right. The girl smiled. Of course her guards would be the ones stationed right next to her.

As the carriage rolled onto the main road of the town, the shade of the trees that lined the castle's path gave way to bright sunlight. Historia felt the glow on her face, filling her with joy and life. The village center was teeming with people. People cheering, smiling, exalting their kingdom's monarch. Historia beamed, waving at the people as they passed. She saw men and women wave to her with shouts of praise and pride, little girls' mouths gape with the dream of being like her, older couples stare at her with respect in their wise eyes, children running around, playing in the back of the streets, not paying any attention to the procession at all. Every single person, old or young, big or small, excited or disinterested, made Historia's heart swell with pride and admiration.

There were her people. These were the faces she swore to protect. And she loved them, she knew she did. This was why she had accepted their throne, to make sure those smiles stayed strong and bright.

A loud bang sounded from a side street, right where the procession was about to cross. Shrieks of surprise sounded, the knights in front freezing the carriage where it was. Historia looked around, desperately trying to sneak a peek of what had happened up ahead.

"Where are we?" she heard Jean mutter to Sasha. Both of their eyes were locked on the street where the noise had come from.

"That's a blacksmith's," the brunette whispered back. "Could've been an accident." Her tone suggested otherwise though, as did the sharp look in her brown eyes as they scrutinized the street up ahead.

"Or…" Jean prompted. But a second explosion of sound cut off Sasha's answer, this time bringing with it a shower of golden sparks. The people near the street scattered, escaping the sparks, but they appeared to dissolve when they made contact with any solid surface. Sir Edros stood up, eyes narrowed as he surveyed the street.

"What is going on?" the Prime Minister demanded, voice carrying around the street, which had gone eerily silent in the wake of the explosions.

"I'm actually disappointed that you don't know."

A collective gasp sounded from the crowds as Historia's eyes flew up to the roof of the building immediately to her right. Standing precariously on the edge of the roof, daintily kicking the shingles with her toes, was the Blue Fury. Her azure cape blew around her body, blonde hair curling around her shoulders like satin ribbons, the sapphire mask obscuring her face. She looked bored, as if she weren't centimeters from plummeting to the street below.

Sir Edros growled, the sound deep in his throat. "Leave us be, demon!" the man yelled, clenching his hands in fists.

The Fury in blue laughed, a musical sound that sent shivers up Historia's spine. "Demon? I quite like that," she replied, taking a step over the edge of the roof. The people gasped again as the girl flew to the ground, feet first, one hand running down a drainpipe. The people on the street below scrambled to get away. Her black boots hit the pavement with a soft click. Historia felt frozen in her seat.

"It may not be the best of manners to correct a man of noble stature, but I feel it would surprise you to learn that I'm just as human as you are, sir," the girl continued, standing still as a statue, her hands tucked neatly behind her back. "I can just do this."

The girl snapped her fingers and the other four Furies appeared behind her. Screams arose from the crowd. The elite knights moved to attack. All four of Historia's knights drew closer to the carriage, protecting their queen. Marco and Connie drew their swords, the sharp blades aimed for the hearts of the closest two sorcerers. Jean drew his sword as well, Sasha loading an arrow in her bow. The Furies didn't look like they were going to budge, all five of them looking oddly calm about the whole thing as horses charged at them.

"Wait!" Historia exclaimed, not even sure what she was doing as she stood and called out to the knights. The elite guards halted, staring at their queen with wide eyes. "Wait," Historia repeated, much quieter, much more unsure.

"Wait?" the Green Fury questioned, staring from the queen to the guards. "Your highness, were you actually worried that these silly toy soldiers could hurt us? That's rather cute." Historia felt all the blood drain from her face.

"Maybe she really is as kind as they all say, if she'd spare the lives of a few no good sorcerers," the Blue Fury purred provokingly. The queen blushed, hands curling into tight fists at her sides.

"Listen up! I don't intend to spare your lives," Historia exclaimed, projecting her voice so it echoed between the streets. "I don't intend to kill you now, either, but do not expect my mercy to last forever. I believe in second chances, and would like to offer one to all of you now. Give up whatever game you are playing at; leave me and my people alone. And if you agree to this, I promise you that no harm will come to you, we will forgive your previous transgressions and work to find an agreement regarding whatever it is that you're fighting us for. I do not want to kill you, but I will if you make me."

The Furies expressions did not change (then again, it was rather hard to read them with the masks in the way.) Historia stood tall, not acknowledging the stares from her guard, Sir Edros, or the people. All her attention was focused on the five masked figures in front of her.

Suddenly the Black Fury moved forward and addressed the people saying: "Look at how brave your queen is. She champions life over death, even pleading for the lives of criminals. That is as admirable a quality in a monarch as ever could be." He paused, a small smile rising to his face. "I fear, though that she is the only one in the castle with any sense of morals. And it is awfully hard for a good seed to grow in poisoned soil." His voice was so calm, too calm for the words he was saying so simply as if they were common knowledge. Historia was speechless.

"Seize them!" Sir Edros cried. The knights lifted their weapons, yet didn't move forward, awaiting a signal.

"Wait," Historia said sharply. Sir Edros glared at her with sharp eyes. Historia ignored him.

"Sorry, highness," the Fury in Green shrugged, "but it looks like your nobles really aren't as kind and brave as you. And they're far from equaling you in looks." Sir Edros made a choking sound.

"Stop being foolish!" Historia exclaimed with frustration. "All these witty remarks are getting us no where. What do you say to my proposal?"

Five masked faces exchanged a glance.

"We'd like to accept your offer," the Blue Fury answered plainly. Historia felt her heart skip.

"But not yet," the Violet Fury added with a cat-like curl of her lips before all five sorcerers disappeared in a rain of golden sparks, falling to the pavement like ashes.

The queen felt her heart sink. They'd refused her offer of mercy. Her options were running low. But they said they'd consider her proposal, so maybe there was still a chance that no one would have to die… How were they supposed to catch these guys when they could disappear at the drop of a hat?

The sound of applause broke Historia from her reverie. She glanced up to see the people in the streets clapping, one by one until the entirety of the road was cheering. The girl inhaled sharply, caught completely off guard.

"Why are they clapping?" she whispered aloud.

"For you," Marco whispered at her right. The girl turned wide, confused blue eyes on him, receiving one of Marco's shining smiles. "For their brave queen who just stood up to five sorcerers."

Tears stung the back of Historia's eyes as Marco joined the applause, Connie, Jean, and Sasha following suit. Even Sir Edros began to clap for her. Historia couldn't help but smile, wondering how these people could love her so much even though she'd just let dangerous criminals escape. Maybe they trusted her more than they feared the Furies.

The queen tucked a piece of hair away behind her ear, her fingers meeting the petals of Ymir's flower. It was enough to let loose the tears from her eyes. Historia had never been so happy.

 **Well, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter; it was a little rough for me to get through so I hope it wasn't too bad!**

 **I'll try to get the next installment up in time! And please don't hesitate to leave a review!**


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